


Paying for Commissions

by Thorny



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Explicit Consent, Human, I'm so sorry, Language, M/M, Mild PTSD (in chap 2), Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Multiple Partners, Multiple Sex Positions, One of them has a thick af Accent, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Scarification, Scars, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M, Wake-Up Sex, Worgen, if i missed a tag i'm sorry, its confusing but it starts dubcon and switches to explicit consent, mild bloodplay, roleplay format, somewhat graphic description of scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 02:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18650752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorny/pseuds/Thorny
Summary: George Yulestein receives a painting commission request from the husband of his old work partner.  Things get heated when it comes to payment...-----A Warcraft Erotic Roleplay with a friend of mine.  Bastian Roske belongs to her, Marley Faust and George Yulestein are mine.Also, there is some mild bloodplay and a somewhat graphic description of scars, but no Graphic Depictions of Violence.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not completely necessary, but if you like some context with your practically PWP;
> 
> Marley Faust (dark-haired rogue) and Bastian Roske (red-headed warlock) are in an open relationship.  
> George Yulestein (older blonde rogue) used to work with Marley in a sort of gang/cult type situation where they did a lot of Bad Things. Now they're friends. It's complicated.  
> George is also in a semi-open relationship with his beau Fynnegan Moore, who shall be known as Sir-not-appearing-in-this-fic.
> 
> Lastly, George has a horribly thick accent. Think practically dwarven. I'm so sorry for the eye-rape.

A stocky, greying-blonde rogue named George Yulestein, with his parchments under his arm and his paints in their pack slung over his back, made his way to Lakeshire. He hated gryphons, refused to fly on the mangy, temperamental things, and still made record time on his sweet mare Sheilah. He left her in the stables in the main part of town, taking the path behind the Florist’s on foot. The rogue regarded Bastian’s home with a quirked brow, impressed with the place already, and surprised Marley hadn’t blindfolded him again to bring him here. He shrugged, padding up to the door and ringing the small bell off to the side.

Noise from inside, footsteps and then the door swings open. Bastian stands there in his redheaded human form, in shirt and pants and looking entirely proper save for bare feet. He looks at George bemusedly with warm brown eyes.

“I have a bell,” he observes. “I didn’t know I had a bell, most people just knock. Come in, come in,” he steps back, waving George inside, offering with a gesture to take some of his supplies.

George chuckles as the man finally answers the door, not seemingly bothered by Bastian’s oddities. He shakes his head at Bastian’s offer, patting his pack gently. “ ‘M ol’, bu’ I ain’t frail. Can carry my own pain’s eh?”  
The rogue seems especially amused as he sidles inside, his eyes flicking to the faint scratches on the knob. “O’ yeh go’ a rogue wha’s good with picks an’ no’ so good with knockin’?” He grins.

Bastian chuckles, closing the outside door and pushing through the one to the living area.

“Mmm, there is that,” he agrees. “Marley’s not the only person to visit, though,” he continues mildly, glancing around at the organized chaos that is his home. Papers and books are marked and stacked, arrayed out across his desk and in neat piles on the bedside table. He clears off the couch from his current project, scooping up his materials unceremoniously and then stacking them in quick, efficient piles on his desk. The order is unclear, but it must make some sense to him. He turns back to George, waving a hand at the couch and crossing a shelf set into the wall. 

“Can I get you anything to drink, George?”

George watches the man sift through his order chaos with a bemused smile, toeing a tome on the floor gently before moving to the newly vacated couch. He sets his pack down, propping it against the other arm of the couch before setting his parchments down next to that. The older man tugs nervously on his leathers as soon as Bastian’s back is turned.

“Erm... yeh, sure. Anythin’s yeh go’, really. Ain’t picky,” The blonde murmurs, looking over at all the tomes, notes, journals and tools all strewn on the redhead’s desk with a raised brow.

The tomes are mostly spellbooks, history books, books on runes and books on ley lines, though occasionally there’s a more accessible book on the finer points of how bodies work. And everywhere are notes and mock ups of arrays in Bastian’s careful, precise hand. 

The warlock looks at George thoughtfully a moment before he pulls down a bottle with a rich golden alcohol inside. He pours two half-glasses and pads over to George, offering him one with an easy smile. “How are you keeping, George?”

George readily accepts BOOZE as booze keeps the nervous factor down. Sometimes. He takes a slow, appreciative sip before answering the man. “Been keepin’, Ready teh go back, yeh know? S’fun, bein’ ou’ with Fynny an’ ‘Lizabeth. Doin’ somethin’ good.” The rogue nods once, smiling slightly.  
“Tha’ ain’t teh say I don’ wan’ teh be here, now, Roske,” George is quick to point out, slightly worried he’d offended with his off-comment.

The drink is an aged whisky with a hint of a honeyed taste, and Bastian sips his own as he waves George off with a smile. 

“Bastian, please. And only because I have decent booze, right?” jokes with a quick grin. He takes a seat on the arm of a nearby chair, smiling. 

“No’ jus’ tha’, I promise,” George worries his lip, fingers curling against his thigh nervously as he takes another distracting sip of the honeyed whiskey. He takes a deep breath, leaning back against the couch before leveling on the redhead.  
“ ‘M doin’ tha’ bit ‘gain wha’ I keep ‘pologizing’...” The rogue sighs ruefully.

Bastian grins, looks a bit like he might be holding back a chuckle. “You are,” he confirms, definitely sounding amused. “Relax, George. I absolutely do not mind you being in my home, and you absolutely do not need to be here if you do.” The warlock speaks calmly, smoothly, smiling at George over his glass. 

The rogue groans softly, thunking his head back on the couch. He lets his head roll to face the man, snorting even as his brow furrow slightly. “S’no’... I... damnit all,” George grunts. He takes a healthy swig of the whiskey before leveling his brown eyes on Bastian.

“ ‘M fine, jus’... ain’t been commissioned ‘fore an’... yeh gotta admit, s’weird goin’ so long thinkin’ yeh were some spectre o’ Marley’s, an’ now we’re bes’ friends. O’ somethin’ close.”

Bastian tilts his head, smiling thoughtfully at the other man. “I suppose that’s up to you, George. I certainly consider you a friend,” he acknowledges, taking a long sip from his glass. He motions to George. “‘This fellow is wise enough to play the fool; And to do that well craves a kind wit,’” he quotes. He shrugs one shoulder. “I like you, George. Not just because you kept one of my favorite people together, or because you like my booze.” He slips down into the seat of the chair with a boyish grin. 

George snorts, nodding slowly as Bastian assures him. His fingers swipe into his blonde hair in a nervous fashion, but he’s smiling, and he takes a gentle sip of his nearly finished whiskey. The older man sighs heavily.  
“Fair ‘nough. An’ I s’pose I didn’ have much ridin’ on me helpin’ Marley... jus’ my faith.” The rogue snorts, chuckling at some inside joke Bastian must have missed somewhere. George waves his hand vaguely, still grinning crookedly.  
“M’ glad yeh like me. Lot o’ folk think’m crass.”

“I have clearly not spent enough time around you,” Bastian replies mock-loftily. He smiles, knocks back the rest of his drink while sprawled in the chair. He lifts his empty glass and motions to George’s with his own in silent question.

“S’tha’ accen’...” George clarifies with a chuckle, “Wes’fall’s a helluva place teh grow up on’a Farm...” He doesn’t sound terribly thrilled about the memory. At Bastian’s glass-jiggling, George nods vigorously before tipping the last swallow of his drink back. He passes the now empty glass to the man, smiling his thanks.

“An accent’s a hell of a thing to judge a man by,” Bastian shoots back as he rises to his feet, slipping into the light Gilnean accent he uses in public these days. Pouring another glass each with a smooth flourish, he totes both glasses and the bottle back to where George sits.

“Questions about the farm would be far too nosy, wouldn’t they?” he asks, dropping back to his regular voice, handing George his drink. “Would you rather talk about painting? I’ve canvases around here somewhere,” he begins, turning on the spot as scans the room.

George accepts the glass with a smile, sipping the contents before nodding to Bastian. “Yeh, pain’s’d be nice...” He chuckles lightly, scooting back and leaning forward on his knees with an eager attention. “I’d like teh see yer canvases. Ain’t worked on’a canvas inn’a...long time.”

Bastian stops about halfway through his turn, moving to his desk and pulling out a pair of stretched canvases leaned against one side. One is about a foot square, and the other a larger rectangle. He carries them to the couch under one arm and sets them down between himself and George when he takes a seat.

George follows Bastian’s movements, sipping his whiskey absently as the canvases are revealed. The rogue sets the glass down on the table nearby, careful not to set it on any papers or tomes, and runs his fingers over the top of the smaller canvas.  
“These’re perfect...” George murmurs, grinning slightly, “So... wha’did’jeh wanna start? Brough’ tha’ parchment teh sketch...”

Bastian chuckles, holds up a hand. “Ahh, I do technical drafts and runic arrays; this is a little beyond me,” he gestures to the ‘art’ things, sipping his drink. “Just tell me where you need me to sit. We can set up a surface or an easel if you’d like,” he offers, lounging back against the arm of the couch.

George taps his goatee’d chin in thought, pointing to the couch he was sitting on. He opens his mouth, but stops, looking Bastian over with something akin to a professional’s look. He furrows his brow, looking over the room. “Easel’d prob’bly be bes’...” The rogue agrees absently, standing. He picks up the drink and takes a sip, hmming to himself.  
“Yer a lounger.” George says abruptly, off-hand. He gestures to the chair the man is currently in.

Bastian grins a moment and sits forward, slinging his arm loosely over his legs as he tames the grin to something a little more polite. “If you like. I can also sit quite prettily should the situation call for it.” He tilts his head at George, calm and patient. “I’ll go fetch the easel, then. Anything else?”

George snorts and smirks slightly ruefully as he seems to be squaring up the scene before him with his eyes, lifting his hands to gesture vaguely about something only the rogue seems to see.  
“No’ wha’ I meant, I like my subjec’s natural. Don’ like tha’ posed crap,” George waves the very thought away, nodding when Bastian offers to fetch an easel. His brow furrows slightly.  
“Yes sure yeh wan’ me teh pain’ yeh in that?” The older man bites his lip, looking Bastian’s clothes over.

Bastian looks faintly amused. “That was not the plan, no,” he acknowledges, sipping his drink. He tilts his head at George curiously, curls both hands around his glass in his lap and glances down at it a moment. He glances up at older man with a hint of a smile.

“The painting is not going over my mantle piece, George. It’s for - someone, and I can certainly wear clothes if you prefer, but I hadn’t intended to. I’m not particularly pretty,” he states like a simple fact rather than self deprecation, “but I should make for an interesting subject.”

George blinks a moment, mind wrapping around the concept relatively slowly for the older man, before the light dawns, the rogue’s eyes widen and a flush peppers his cheeks. “O-oh... I see...” George coughs lightly, turning away from Bastian a moment to... collect himself.

“S-should be fine, yeh?” George murmurs, taking a deep breath, “Don’ need teh be pretty none, Bastian...” The rogue tries to assure, busying himself with getting his pack open.

Bastian chuckles and rises to his feet, patting George lightly on the shoulder as he exits the room, booze in hand, to locate the easel. Why the hell Bastian has an easel when he doesn’t paint is anyone’s guess, but he can be heard rummaging for it elsewhere in the small house.

George nearly flinched when Bastian patted him, but he kept it in, taking another deep breath. He opened his pack finally, rummaging for his paints as his other hand closed around the whiskey glass. The rogue stands with several potted colors in his hand, looking them over before tossing the rest of his drink down the hatch.

The rest of the bottle of delicious, delicious whiskey sits nearby, well within reach. However, Bastian has apparently found the easel and chooses that moment to re-enter the room with it awkwardly under one arm, glass hanging from his free hand. Setting it down next to George with a warm smile, Bastian and his drink go over to the fireplace, which the warlock prods to life, feeding wood into it and shifting it about with a wrought iron poker as he sips his drink.

George finally thinks he’s collected himself enough, turning back to situate the easel where he wants it to face the chair, sliding the bar down so he could sit on the couch comfortably while he painted. He lays his paints out on the table, careful to move tomes. He begins mixing some of the colors onto a square, thin glass plate that he had in his pack.  
“Bastian, need yer hand,” George beckoned, a brush in his fingers.

Bastian puts up the poker and makes his way over with a slightly apologetic smile as he notes all the books around George. “Used to a bigger place to put all these books,” he murmurs, offering his hand to George. There’s a deep scar across the center of his palm, the gash that’s opened time and time again for his spells, surrounded by sundry scars and runes and symbols. There’s also a scar on the back of his hand as if something had been driven through it, though as a whole it is not as damaged as his palm.

George takes Bastian’s hand gently, eyes narrowing on the quantity of scarring for a moment before he sighs. He brings the brush over, and makes a few swipes on the man’s skin. Tsking, he grabs a pot of white, adding it to the spots in slow, small measurements until he makes an approving sound, the paint mixing in nearly perfectly with Bastian’s own skin. The rogue turns back to his samples on the glass plate and adds the white there.  
“Al’righ’...yeh... m’ good, then. Whene’er yer wan’teh star’.” George nods once, brush in one hand as he brings a bit of parchment up and tacks it to the canvas carefully.

Bastian’s scarred, calloused hand is relinquished and he withdraws it, wiggling his fingers at George with a smile and a warning. “Most of me is about that bad,” he advises mildly, tugging the kerchief down, untying it and setting it aside before working on his shirt cuffs. The kerchief covered thick cords of scarring across Bastian’s throat, and George has certainly been in the business to know what that would be from.

George swallowed a bit thickly, watching Bastian reveal old wounds that must have nearly killed him, knowing well enough the scars were from a blade. He wondered what Marley thought of it all.  
“S’no’ tha’ bad...” George tries, reaching over and refilling his glass generously while Bastian continues to strip.

Bastian chuckles. “Mmm, not that bad for me, no,” he agrees, unbuttoning the front of his shirt as he speaks. “I, however, am used to it. You are not; I thought some warning suitable.” He smiles at George a touch ruefully, tossing his shirt across his bed and staring on his pants. His chest is crossed with scars, some runes and some far more simple, long ragged tears from claws, shorter, cleaner cuts from knives. Burns and scars from abrasions, and of course, the deep scarring on his shoulders at the base of his neck, obviously torn into by something with teeth and strong jaws.

George tries not to flinch... or stare too hard at the other man’s marred flesh. It seemed there wasn’t an inch of it clean of marks. Interesting, indeed. he smiles somewhat ruefully at the very obvious bite mark and clawing, rolling his eyes with a sigh as he mixes more paint up.  
“Marley’s none teh kind teh yer already scarred up skin... I could hit ‘em with a newspaper’re somethin’ if yeh’d like...” He chuckles at his own mental image, reaching into his bag for more of his paints.

Bastian smiles. “Odd as it might sound, I’d rather his marks than someone who was trying to kill me,” he explains, stepping out of his pants and tossing them with his shirt on the bed. When he’s turned away it’s pretty obvious there’s something carved across his back, and even amid other scarring, a blatant bite scar on his ass.  
Beyond the scarring, Bastian is lean, very lean, and could stand to gain some weight. Oddly, however, he does have some muscle to him. The man does his own lifting. Turning to George, he raises both brows in question. 

“Where would you like me?”

George was almost caught staring at the rather blatantly obvious M-I-N-E carved across Bastian’s shoulders, blinking away quickly when the redhead turned back. He coughs lightly, his flush back as he gestures to the chair. “Loungin’. No’ posed. Howe’er yeh like.” the rogue manages, not looking past the other man’s waist with strained effort. He did, however he would deny it, see the bite mark on Bastian’s arse.

Bastian inclines his head and makes his way to the chair, draping himself over it comfortably - and rather obnoxiously. Stretched out, he levels his gaze on George and grins, looking to him for approval. 

“This alright?”

George glances over at Bastian’s prompting, blinking once and flushing with embarrassment. He rubs his flaming cheeks over once, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Yeh’d thin’ I wouldn’ git bothered by this... wha’ with spendin’ time with Fynny... an’ Marley ‘fore tha’...” The rogue grumbles to himself, picking up his brush with a black ink pot.

“S’fine,” George chuckles, taking a deep breath before laying brush to paper, laying out simple, precise strokes as guidelines for the painting and trying not to stare inappropriately.

Bastian seems to think staring inappropriately is fine, because the way he’s staring at George is definitely inappropriate, not to mention highly impolite - an intent, hungry kind of look that suggests any number of delightful things one does not do in mixed company, or in public at all unless you’re into that sort of thing. 

“I know Marley lounges around naked when he can get away with it, but I didn’t know Fynn did,” he replies to George’s grumble. “Though I suppose that would explain where the material for all those sketches came from.”

George flushes once again, Bastian’s off-hand comment throwing him into another embarrassed fit. He runs his fingers through his hair, smudging black ink into his blonde hair, before taking the brush back up. “Yer incorrigible, yeh know tha’?” The rogue grumbles, flicking his thumb across his nose with a snort before he goes back to his sketch painting.  
“An’ he don’...really do wha’ yer doin’... bu’ ‘e does like teh sleep nekkid...” George murmurs out, ducking his head with an embarrassed snort.

“Mmm,” Bastian replies, appreciative but slightly distracted, eyes drifting to George’s now-mussed hair. His grin quirks up on one side, and he tips his chin ever so slightly to indicate the ink streaked through it. Modeling as he is, though, he is careful not to move very much.

“That’s pretty adorable,” he comments, cheeky.

The older man cocks a brow at Bastian, wondering what on Azeroth he could be on about when he looked down at his hand; black ink streaked across his palm from mixing. He snorts. “S’ne’er gonna come ou’ now...” He bemoans, shaking his head with a smile. He sets the brush down, looking out over the canvas at Bastian a moment before nodding once and setting the sketch to the side.

“Al’righ’... here goes...” George mumbled, cracking his knuckles before rinsing his brush and starting on the flesh-toned paint on the canvas.

Bastian puts his chin back where it was, loose and relaxed and rather unfortunately for George, smiling in a speculative but very interested fashion. He doesn’t move, though. Bastian is a good model, and stays put. Sure, his artist could probably do with a bit less blatant staring from the naked man he’s trying to paint, but one can’t have everything.

George makes short, precise strokes on the canvas, blocking in color of Bastian’s overtly provocative lounge, and trying very, very hard not to stare. He was a professional, damnit. The older rogue shifted his feet, reaching over for more paint before returning to the canvas.  
As George slowly gets more into the painting and less worrying about Bastian being starkers, his focus is apparent. His flush is gone, replaced with an artist’s stare and concentration writ across George’s brow.

Bastian notices as George calms down and gets into the work, focusing on colors and lines and paints rather than naked, scarred skin. The warlock still stares at George like he’s perhaps trying to seduce him. Not necessarily because he is, but because he’d like George to paint him that way. He sits very still, breathing and blinking and not much else.

George’s tongue peeks out from between his lips as he furrows his brows, starting in on the detailing; narrowing the blocks into arms and legs, waist and chest. Bastian’s form is slowly coming together on the canvas, smack dab in the center and large.  
The rogue reaches for his paints, rinsing his brush and going after a lighter color. He dabs at the canvas gently and briefly before grabbing another color. He seems to be off in his own world, glancing up at Bastian every few beats and not even bothered now.

Bastian’s eyes flick down to George’s tongue, and by the way his smile deepens, just a little, he either thinks that is also adorable or finds it hot. Possibly both. George is busy painting, so he probably doesn’t notice anyways, and the warlock watches him do so with that intent, seductive expression ever fixed in place.

George reaches for another color once again, pausing his painting only long enough to mix this one. He huffs, hands on his hips as he surveys his work with a critical eye, looking over at Bastian occasionally. The rogue finally nods once, snorts, and goes to his pack for a thinner brush.  
“Yer doin’ good,” George murmurs, smiling at Bastian briefly before launching into another segment of serious-faced painting.

“Of course,” Bastian murmurs, grinning back cheekily a moment. Still, he seems pleased, offering George a warm smile before speaking up again. “Do you mind if I talk? Will that bother you at all?” The warlock spoke in a smooth, quiet voice, lips hardly moving.

“Nah, go’ yer form done. Talk all yeh wan’,” George invites, leaning back to look at his work so far as he reaches for his drink, taking a few quick sips and leaving flesh toned streaks of paint on the glass. The older man frowns at his mess, futilely attempting to wipe the paint off and only smearing it worse. He sighs, setting the whiskey down.

Bastian laughs, the motion shaking slightly through his shoulders and chest. “Light, George, don’t worry about that. You and Marley both, I swear.” He smiles, not quite shaking his head. “Always worried about getting my things dirty.” And yes, the smile goes back to something a little less polite at that. Oh, Bastian.

George looks a bit sheepish, wiping his hands off with a small, filthy rag he pulled from his pack. He waves dismissively at Bastian as he tries to wipe the glass off with the cloth before taking another drink. “S’habit. Don’ like leavin’ messes, I guess,” The rogue shrugs, setting the glass down and taking up his thin brush once again. His brows furrow as he glances up, his eyes meeting Bastian’s and he ducks back down with a slight flush, his brush scratching gently against the cloth as he continues to work.

“Mmm. I could see how that would have been important in your employment,” Bastian allows, eyes following George, curious and considering. “The two of you worked together for a long time. I can see it in your gestures, in your habits. You’re very much alike, in some ways.” The warlock smiles.

George snorts at that, rolling his eyes and smiling ruefully. “S’cause tha’s how Marley is. He copies whoe’er he’s with, teh a poin’.” The rogue frowns slightly, his brush stilling.  
“S’good he’s found somethin’ teh do, somethin’ teh occupy his mind fer awhile...” The older man nods in Bastian’s direction, “E’en if’n it ain’t all legal...”  
George smiles again, a touch mischievously, before delving back to painting.

“There is nothing illegal about exploring ruins,” Bastian replies mock-loftily, expression a picture of innocence. Not an entirely convincing picture, given how the man is sprawled out, but it was a good attempt.

“Neh, an’ s’no’ like tha’ Explorer’s League laid claim teh any o’ it ‘fore,” George nods once, smirking at Bastian’s attempts at acting innocent. The rogue snorts, making a few more short strokes with his brush before rinsing it. He reaches for a dark color next.  
“Jus’ sayin’ tha’ artifac’s ain’t goin’ teh neh museum,” George levels his gaze on Bastian’s, knowing, but his smirk tells waves of not caring.

Bastian grins back, innocence dropping away suddenly. “Of course not. There’s perhaps one non-private collection I can think of, and that is the one belonging to the Explorer’s League in Ironforge.” He looks very amused, sprawled out and relaxed and definitely not in a position to be discussing scholarly endeavors.

George shrugs, still smirking slightly as he returns his full attention to the canvas, making broad strokes with the new dark color. “Ain’t ne’un gonna refute tha’.”  
As he goes for more paint, the rogue seems to be looking at the chair Bastian is lounging in more than the nude man in it.  
“S’almos’ done,” George assures, making some short small strokes, “Yeh can see it ‘fore I seal it.”

Bastian’s brows raise a moment, surprised and impressed. “Well. That was quick.” He pauses and grins teasingly at George. Yes Bastian, very mature. “I would certainly love to see it. Let me know,” he adds mildly, slipping back to that intent, seductive expression.

George snorts, rolling his eyes at Bastian’s little quip as he makes small adjustments to the painting with his serious face back in place. He steps back, taking up his whiskey for a sip as he looks over the work with a critical eye once more, crossing his arm under his drinking hand.  
“Yeh, s’good. Yeh can look, Bastian,” The rogue nods, stepping back to allow the warlock to see the painting.

Bastian pushes himself up from the chair smoothly, rising to his feet and padding over to the easel, and no, apparently he does not need clothes to do this. He’s naked as the day he’s born as he shoots George a warm smile - probably a little too warm, because Bastian’s a horrible flirt - and rounds the easel to take a look at his painting.

George tries not to focus on the still adamantly nude redhead as he’s smiled at, smiling back and sipping on the rest of his whiskey while Bastian looks at his work. On the canvas is a smirking, lewdly staring redheaded warlock, his scars there but muted against the whole image, lounging insanely comfortably in his short-backed dark leather chair, leg thrown over one arm and arms sprawled to either side. The background is vague on purpose, to draw the viewer’s eye to Bastian.  
Its honestly an accomplishment the rogue managed to paint that and not die of embarrassment.

Bastian grins approvingly, glancing at George and inclining his head in thanks. He’s still looking at the poor man rather intently, focused and lips curled in a fashion that’s just past being polite. “Mmm - It’s perfect. What do I owe you?” he murmurs in a low, rich voice, and no, that’s not suggestive at all. Absolutely not, that would be crazy.

George blinks at the man, cheeks flushing slightly as the warlock gives him that damn look, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair nervously with a soft chuckle. “Glad yeh like it... s’uh... ne’er sold a piece, teh be hones’...don’ know, wha’ere yeh wanna pay fer it?” The rogue queries, half-joking as he finishes his whiskey with a nervous gulp.

Bastian’s impolite smile deepens, eyes lighting wickedly. Stepping into George’s personal space but blessedly keeping his hands to himself, he flicks his eyes up and down George’s form. “Well, I know what I want,” he replies in a low, enticing voice. 

George stammers as he’s looked over, cheeks flushing darkly as the nude redhead presses closer into his space and stumbles back a half step. He shakily holds up the empty whiskey glass between them, warding Bastian off with the glass in the hopes the man won’t jump him. However, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little interested, even if he was mortified. The older man’s head snaps up to the door, old rogue instincts rusty, but not dead.

Marley Faust easily picked the locks and re-locked the front door after himself, padding through Bastian’s foyer with a faint smile. He smelled a guest, and he was honestly glad George was getting out and about again. He worried over the old rogue.  
He opened Bastian’s door with little care, assuming poorly about the situation he was going to stumble upon, and this wasn’t what the dark-haired rogue imagined. Bastian was naked (hot) and seemed to be half-pinning poor blushing Georgie between the couch and an easel. Marley snorted and grinned.  
“Did I come at a bad time?”

“Never,” Bastian quips without looking around, brown eyes still locked on George. “I’m trying to seduce your former partner. You were right; He is rather hard to convince, isn’t he?” His voice is almost petulant, but he’s definitely trying not to grin like the bastard he is. It should be noted that while George may be pinning himself to something in an effort to avoid him, Bastian absolutely not pinning George to anything, he didn’t even follow the older man when he took a step back.

George makes a sound of protest that dies in his throat at Marley’s grin shot in his direction, the older rogue withering slightly under both gazes; one of want and one of amusement. The rogue collapses back on the couch, sighing heavily with his flushed cheeks as he reaches back to the table for the rest of the whiskey.

Marley chuckles as he pads into the room, shutting the door behind him with his hands on his hips. “Georgie, Georgie... you are adorable, you know that?” The dark-haired rogue grins lopsidedly, his green eyes sliding to the canvas curiously.  
“What were you painting, Georgie? Bastian? Mmm... I’d like to see...” Marley purrs, his grin turning to pleased, padding closer to the easel.

Bastian flops down on the other end of the couch and props one foot up. He’s found his glass somewhere, and he takes a long drink. 

“Mm, yes. When I found out George painted - well! I just had to get him to paint me.” He grins, swirling his glass. He’s still naked. Apparently he has no shame. “We were just getting to the matter of payment when you came in, Marley,” Bastian adds delightedly, eyes cutting over to George impishly.

George tries not to look over at Bastian, pouring himself another finger or two of whiskey as Marley pads over to look at the easel. The older rogue takes a healthy drink of his glass, glancing Marley’s way as the dark-haired rogue rounds the edge, staring at the painting.  
“Ne’er done’un like this, s’kinda posed...” George gestures vaguely at the nude man beside him, “Bu’ s’all him.”

Marley grins, turning to glance at the blonde. “It's very good, Georgie. Its very... Bastian,” The armor-clad man turns towards the two on the couch with a wide grin. “So, what was the verdict on the price?” Marley places his hands on his hips, cocking his waist to the side.  
“Bastian for a night? I might be mildly opposed to that.”

“Oh, you’re just jealous because you couldn’t seduce him,” Bastian shoots back, sitting forward and resting arms on his knees. He’s grinning at Marley widely, teasing. Bastard. “And really, Marley - well,” he smiles innocently. “There’s only one bed in here, and you would have to sleep somewhere.”

George can only squeak softly in protest to the two more or less bargaining over him, looking at Marley pleadingly. He swallows his whiskey in a few deep gulps, nervous and twitchy as he crosses his arms.

Marley chuckles softly, shaking his head as he gives a subtle sniff of the air. The dark-haired rogue grins, turning and flopping himself between Bastian and George, arms up over the back of the couch languidly. “Oh come, come. I may not have managed to convince Georgie to play, but all the better for the three of us!” Marley has no shame.

“Mmm.” Bastian watches Marley curiously as he sniffs, moves. He lounges back against the arm of the couch, throwing a leg across Marley’s lap like it’s no big deal - probably isn’t, these boys have no shame - and looks at George over the rim of his glass. The look is most certainly the undressing-with-eyes kind, but it’s also... appraising. 

“Mmm. I haven’t convinced him yet either,” the warlock allows mildly. He tilts his head at George, smiles in a way that’s almost challenging. “I would love the chance to do more convincing, though.”

George swallows thickly at Bastian’s look, melting slightly against the opposing arm of the couch with a soft whimper. “Yeh two’re mean, yeh know tha’?” The older man groans, tightening his arms across his chest, “Yer downrigh’ despicable...”

Marley flashes a toothy grin at the other rogue, leaning slightly closer to Bastian as his hand trails down to play with a lock of the warlock’s hair. “We’re mean? I’m quite sure we offered to relieve you of your...discomfort, Georgie. And I by no means refute being despicable...” Marley’s grin widens as he trails a finger across George’s shoulder.

“Mm. He’s despicable, and I - I am terribly mean,” Bastian agrees with a grin. He shudders gently as Marley plays with his hair, eyelids slipping down slightly. “Guilty as charged, I suppose.” The man licks his lips, because that’s totally fair, and quirks a brow at George. “I could tell you all about how I’d like to convince you, George,” he offers in a smooth, low voice. “More information might help you come to a decision, mm?”

George covers his heated face with his hand, groaning audibly as he tries not to look at either of these two evil, evil people he once considered friends, which, in hindsight was like trying to be ‘just friends’ with a succubus.  
“Feck, s’like yeh all know’m finally no’ pissin’ round, kickin’ tha’ dirt...” The older man mutters, his lips straining to keep frowning, “An’ now’s tha’ time teh go pouncin’...”

Marley chuckles delightedly. “Indeed, my old friend, indeed. You know I’ve always been an opportunist...” The dark-haired man grins, wrapping his fingers around George’s far shoulder to gently tug the older man closer, “And you know I’m good. I was in your head once, trying to feed you delectable things to do with Fynnegan...” Marley winks.

“He is very good,” Bastian agrees with a wide, hungry grin. He drains the last of his booze and leans to set the glass aside. He doesn’t seem at all phased by the comments about Marley being in people’s heads, yay, he just looks at George as if considering what to do with him. By the expression, all the things he’s considering are not fit for polite company. 

“I am fairly practiced myself,” he adds, mild voice out of sync with that look. “You don’t have any proof on that front, but a demonstration could be provided.”

George lets out a withering sigh, cut short by a sharp exhale at Bastian’s ‘offer’ of a demonstration, his legs crossing suddenly and quickly. “Tha’s alrigh’, really...” The older man assures, face still red with embarrassment and possibly getting darker by the minute, “My ‘magination’s takin’ real good care o’ tha’...”

Marley grins positively evilly at the poor, poor blonde, his thumb rubbing small light circles on the other man’s shoulder. He scoots closer to the man, abruptly draping himself over George with a chuckle as the other rogue squeaks, flailing as Marley’s weight settles. The dark-haired rogue is still in his full leathers, which is possibly less panic-inducing than if Bastian had done this.  
“We could even set ground rules, Georgie! We won’t do anything you’re not interested in, promise...”

“Of course there’s ground rules,” Bastian replies before George even has a chance to. “Nothing you’re not comfortable with, we stop when you say stop, and really, if you’re not enjoying yourself you should tell us to stop because this is really pointless otherwise,” he finishes, pouting slightly at George as if the man might think of humoring them. His smile gentles to something soothing.

“Truly, George. It is up to you.”

George can’t really argue with 170 pounds of armored rogue, but Bastian’s comments sway him more than Marley flopping on top of him without preamble did. Marley grins lopsidedly at the older man, his smile less predatory and more hopeful at the warlock’s explanation.  
“It will be fun, you have my word,” Marley murmurs, propping himself up slightly so the other rogue could easily slip out from under him and leave.

George lets out a strangled sound, hand reaching up to press against Marley’s chest slightly, but he doesn’t shove the dark-haired man off. “Anythin’, an’ nothin’ I don’ wan’?” He asks softly, his blush deepening past his cheeks and possibly down his neck.

“Well, anything as long as it’s something Marley’s comfortable with as well,” Bastian allows, smiling amusedly. No mention of what he’s comfortable with, though. Apparently that doesn’t count. “But certainly nothing you don’t want,” he confirms in a low, soothing voice that’s getting a little rough, because hey, Bastian apparently likes where this is going?

George swallows thickly, nodding once to the nude redhead with a tentative smile before focusing on the rogue on top of him. He’d been this close to Marley before, but never willingly before this moment.  
“Well? Yeh gonna do somethin’ o’ wha’, Marley?” The older man taunted gently, smiling nervously as the hand on Marley’s chest curled to grip the folds of his leather armor.

“Oh, Light, yes,” Marley gasped out, being grabbed, however lightly, was enough to send him soaring with happiness. The dark-haired rogue leaned forward, slowly kissing George’s nose and the corner of his lips tentatively, his brow cocked slightly as if to constantly be asking if the blonde was all right.

Bastian watches this, curious and hungry and shifting closer to the other two. He’s within arms reach but keeping his hands to himself, lacing them over one knee as he considers George, and Marley - Marley’s actions and George’s reactions. He’s smiling appreciatively. 

George seems surprisingly receptive to Marley’s nearly chivalric treatment, relaxing against the couch more so than when he first arrived. Marley carefully slides a leg over, straddling the blonde’s lap loosely with a sly grin as he reaches up to unbuckle bits of his armor. Shoulderplates and his cloak fall to the floor, forgotten, followed swiftly by his gloves and bracers before sliding around George’s shoulders comfortably.  
“So, Georgie, what would you like us to do to you? Or rather, you to us. We’re not picky.” Marley’s grin widens, playful.

George snorts, his cheeks still beet red, but at least he seems like he might be freaking out slightly less. His smile is a touch rueful at Marley’s half-teasing questions, rolling his eyes as he lets his hands drift nervously to Marley’s waist.  
“I... don’ know,” the older man starts, licking his lips absently and nervously, “Don’ wan’ yeh teh... teh me, no’ all tha’...feck, can’ e’en say it, s’Fynn’s al’righ’?” He flushes darkly.

Bastian is already naked and does not need to strip at all, so he just watches approvingly as armor is shucked in small increments. He shifts, leaning to run a hand along George’s arm, the motion smooth and confident but entirely ready to pull back at the slightest startelement or hesitance from George.

“Mmm, may I agree with Marley in that you are very adorable, George?” he murmurs, grinning. “Alright. No moving in on Fynn’s territory, mm? I think we can work with that.” Oh, it’s an evil grin that accompanies that statement.

George wonders for a moment if this was an absolutely terrible idea from Bastian’s positively evil grin and Marley’s matching expression, the two taking this surprisingly slow to the older man. George hesitantly nods, carefully pushing the easel back a few paces from the couch with his booted foot, just in case.  
“Yeh, tha’,” He averts his eyes for a moment, slowly meeting theirs in turn with his nearly permanently flushed cheeks.

Marley makes a soft sound in his throat as he leans forward, still keeping himself relatively off the other rogue for the time being, and kisses the corner of George’s mouth again.  
“Mmm...plenty of other fun and exciting ways to play without taking what’s Fynn’s, hm? Maybe even teach you some things to take back to the bard...” Marley licks his lips slowly and deliberately as his lips curl into a grin once again.

Bastian’s half-lidded eyes flick from Marley to George, grin impish. “Oh, definitely,” he agrees in a roughened murmur, slipping his hand up onto George’s shoulder, rubbing at it slowly and methodically in a one handed massage. He tilts his head, watching for George’s reaction, eyes catching Marley’s briefly.

George’s eyes flick from Marley’s to Bastian’s, still nervous but he seems to be slowly getting comfortable with the situation, despite still blushing furiously. But the older man is certainly not jumping away or pushing Marley off in any hurry, so the blonde counts that as a plus. He’s still not sure where exactly to put his hands, but Marley seems perfectly fine with them resting on his waist for now. George finally has had it with Marley’s uncharacteristic tentativeness, and as soon as the other man leaned in to peck him, he captured lips.

Marley was taken off guard briefly when his fellow rogue pressed into a real kiss, blinking for a moment before reaching a hand up from George’s back to cup the back of the older man’s head, kissing back slowly and deliberately.

Bastian kneels up, leaning in to bite gently at Marley’s ear. He waits until the two part for breath, and digs his fingers into muscles at the base of George’s neck. 

“This would be much easier with both hands,” he murmurs lightly. “Lean back against me?” He shifts towards George with the suggestion, moving smoothly, watching him intently.

George was concentrating on how Marley knew how to kiss and why the hell had he never done this earlier, he could have done a hell of a lot less fumbling with Fynn for so long... He jumps slightly at Bastian’s touch, startled, but not moving away. He forgot the warlock was there for a moment. Damn, Marley.  
George offers Bastian a sheepish smile before shifting his weight under Marley. The dark-haired rogue shoots Bastian a little grin, pecking the nude, scarred man on the cheek as he lifts up, kneeling on the couch so George could shift. The older rogue puts his back to the redhead, his legs stretched out comfortably to the other end of the couch as Marley resituates, settling back into the blonde’s lap with a soft groan.  
“Bastian’s hands are sinful,” Marley grins, “As is his mouth, but we’ll work our way there.”

“Mmm, I do like the sound of that,” Bastian murmurs huskily, heels of his hands working into the backs of George’s shoulders at the base of his neck. His thumbs roll to work against the man’s spine between his hands, warm and firm against George’s back. He leans in to kiss the back of George’s neck slowly, hot breath and wet mouth on his skin.

George makes a soft, strangled sound in his throat, his head slumping forward to thunk against Marley’s shoulder as Bastian starts to manhandle the knots in his back deliciously. A tiny voice in the back of his head pipes up helpfully that it would feel a lot better if the redhead wasn’t working through a layer of leather, but the older man’s hands stay firmly attached to Marley’s waist, trembling slightly.

The dark-haired rogue nuzzles George’s hair as the older man slumps against him, meeting Bastian’s eyes with a knowing grin. His fingers trail off George’s head and neck, moving down to flick at buckles and fastenings unhurriedly, knowing where most of them were considering he had them made for George.  
“Just tell us if we’re moving too quickly, Georgie,” Marley purrs against the blonde’s ear, “When you can speak again, of course.”

Bastian meets Marley’s eyes with warm, impish smile. His gaze remains on Marley’s as he leans in to kiss the back of George’s neck again, searching for a spot with lips and tongue that will make George’s toes curl, figuratively. Or literally, that’s fine too. His fingertips work up along the muscles running the side of George’s neck, thumbs pressing and rolling against the back of it, below his lips, staying along his spine.

George is all the putty in Bastian’s capable hands, silently agreeing wholeheartedly about Bastian’s hands being utterly sinful, not to mention his questing along the back of his neck. The older man’s fingers dig into Marley’s hips as the warlock’s mouth edges along his skin, murmuring disjointedly against Marley’s leather-clad shoulder.

Marley gives a delighted shudder as his fellow rogue grips him tighter, grinning positively evilly at Bastian as the dark-haired rogue’s fingers come to a stop, sliding back up to weasel their way into the loosened folds of George’s leathers. Clasps slide open and leather peels away easily as Marley works, nodding once at Bastian before slipping George’s chestpiece off the man’s shoulders and onto the couch. The older man’s skin is pale and dotted with little thin scars, along with larger jagged scars on his back and arms, but he’s nowhere near as pale or scarred as Bastian.

Bastian draws away to give Marley room to strip George down to the waist, raising his brows with a soft noise of approval. He runs a thumb curiously along one of the scars before setting warm, steady hands to George’s shoulders, kneading his muscles with the heels of his hands, pressing his thumbs in slow, small circles. He leans in to kiss at the base of George’s ear gently, eyes flicking to Marley with a wicked, suggestive light before he draws back with a murmur.

“Mmm, both of you are just - nn, sinuous lines and lean muscle and it is - gorgeous.” He kisses the back of George’s neck, speaking against his skin. “You’re both incredibly tense, though. I do wonder if there’s a correlation.” His voice is a little rough and hungry, but it’s even enough, and very curious as his hands move over George’s back.

George doesn’t register Marley stripping him until it's too late, but by then, the older rogue could care less as Bastian had plenty of room to work now, without his heavy leathers in the way. And by the gods, George might have to let these two do just this for hours. Bastian’s gentle kisses are pleasant enough, but George might have to steal his hands.  
“M’nngh...” George tries before rolling his head to face Marley’s neck, “S’good...s’feels good...”

Marley chuckles softly, his grin melting to something more amused at the older man’s attempts to talk, leaning down to kiss George’s cheek. “Georgie, you are absolutely adorable. Never change...” The dark-haired rogue murmurs against the older man’s ear before lifting up to grin at Bastian.  
“A rogue’s stress centers in two places, my dear. His back, and his neck. All that fancy knife work and footwork, you see.” Marley explains, sagely.

Bastian chuckles at Marley’s sage impression, running slow kisses down the back of George’s neck, his hands working now on muscles just under the shoulder blades, touch deft and firm. His thumbs dig to either side of his spine and he’s watching and listening and feeling, intent on George’s reactions, trying to work out just what it is the man is enjoying most. Probably so he can do it again. He makes a soft sound against the back of his neck and peeks at Marley, eyes half-lidded and intent.

George lets out a soft, choked gasp as Bastian works out weeks, no, months of knots built up in his muscles, burying his face in Marley’s neck to muffle himself. His hands finally move, sliding up Marley’s sides to grasp at his leathers for support.

Marley thinks this is also insanely adorable, and nuzzles back against George’s hair as the older man tries to hide his burning face. The dark-haired rogue meets Bastian’s intent glance with a grin and a wink, his own hands rubbing gentle circles on George’s collarbones, a finger sliding along a thicker scar on the right side.  
“I remember stitching this up for you,” Marley murmurs, smiling.

Bastian’s hands knead slowly lower on George’s back, grinning back at Marley with something very fond in his eyes. He nuzzles against the back of George’s neck before drawing back slightly, rolling his hands to apply gentle pressure to either side of his spine with his knuckles, rocking his hands against stiff muscles. He keeps his mouth shut, curious about Marley’s comment, curious to see if George will reply.

George seems to react to that slightly, drawing back enough to not be mashing his scarred face against Marley’s neck with a crooked smile, his eyes half-closed as he bites off a moan and sighs. “Yeh... was careless, tha’ time... pissed ‘m off somethin’ fierce...”

Marley hmms softly, rubbing the scar gently with a soft smile before kissing George’s cheek. “I am glad that bastard is dead. All three of them. Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Marley murmurs, shooting Bastian an apologetic smile. The dark-haired rogue lets his lips trail downwards, capturing George’s in a gentle, warm kiss.

Bastian shakes his head gently at Marley, smiling at him and watching with interest as he kisses George again. Brown eyes on the two of them, he leans in to kiss the back of George’s shoulder, breathing louder and pulse quicker. He digs fingers and thumbs into muscle just above George’s waist expertly, mouth moving slowly, experimentally, along the lines of his shoulders.

George makes a happy sound in his throat as Bastian works more of the tension from his back muscles, trying to lean into the warlock’s touch while still kissing Marley. The dark-haired rogue obliges, moving forward with the blonde’s attempts and giving George’s bottom lip a gentle nibble. The older rogue lets out a breathy little moan as he’s nibbled and kissed by the two, attempting to make mouth words without letting Marley go.  
“We gonna...stay on’re righ’ here?” The older man breathes, parting from Marley briefly.

Marley chuckles, sliding a hand up into George’s hair with a grin, stroking the thick locks gently. “I suppose we could move this elsewhere,” The slightly taller rogue grins at Bastian over George’s shoulder, “What do you think, luv? Getting... uncomfortable?”

Bastian groans softly against George’s shoulder, and it’s not all irritation. “Mmm, you two are trying to kill me,” he mock-grumbles. “Gods. Let’s move now, then,” he urges, shifting to slip one foot to the floor. His hands move from George’s back to his waist.

George makes a sound that sounds an awful lot like he’s in agreement with Bastian, pulling away slightly from the other rogue with a slightly crooked smile. “So move yer ass, Faust,” the older man mock-grumbles, surprising himself.

Marley snorts and chuckles, swinging his leg off George and stepping to the floor, careful to avoid the easel as he starts over to the bed without the other two. His fingers work deftly to relieve him of his armor as he moves, kicking off his boots and dropping each bit unceremoniously before throwing himself naked and backwards onto the bed. He crosses his arms behind his head, grinning childishly at his warlock and George.

Bastian grins back over George’s shoulder, stepping up behind him and running calloused fingers lightly down his back. He glances from George to Marley with a slight, wicked smile.

“If you’d like to lay down I can finish your back,” he offers mildly, tracing up George’s spine with one hand. His eyes flick back to Marley, admiring.

George gives a shudder and a choked sound to Bastian’s ‘mild’ offer, arching his back as those scarred, sinful hands teasingly trail his spine, trying not to just melt again right there on the couch. He shifts, kicking his boots off before he stands wobbily, his brown eyes falling on Marley with a slight whimper.

Marley grins wider, reaching up a hand to beckon George closer with a finger, licking his lips as the older rogue moves. George may not know it, but he still moves like a rogue, all sinuous grace despite his bulk and stoutiness. The dark-haired rogue gently tugs George onto the bed once he’s close enough, scooting to the side so the older man could lay flat on his stomach.  
“Mmm... I should be at least a little upset that Bastian seduced you when I couldn’t...” Marley pouts.

“I have had a lot of practice,” Bastian murmurs in a rough, warm voice, slipping onto the bed and moving to kneel over George, knees to either side of the man’s hips. He leans in to kiss Marley hungrily a moment, then sits back, trailing hands down George’s back before setting hands just below his waist, digging and kneading.

George lets out a choked groan as he happens to watch Bastian make with the heated kissing of his old partner, slowly discovering he was far more turned on that he realized. The pale warlock was a damned demi-god with those hands, forcing up groans out of the older man as he works out knots the rogue didn’t know he had.

Marley finds it all arousing, grinning stupidly after Bastian parts with him to watch George come undone under the redhead’s careful massage. The dark-haired rogue leans over, kissing George’s ear before nipping at the shell gently as he lets his fingers slide into the blonde’s hair again, stroking slowly as he teases.

Bastian watches Marley with George distractedly, working on George’s back by touch, rolling and digging the heels of his hands against his lower back, thumbs pressing along his spine. He has the added benefit of angle, now, allowing him to put a bit of weight behind his motions. Which is good, because goddamn George’s back needs it.

George isn’t even trying to muffle himself anymore between Bastian’s massage and Marley’s teasing, leaning into the dark-haired rogue’s nips as he lifts up slightly to bring his arms up. He crosses them and lays his head on the scarred limbs, eyes drifting closed as he groans, choking off a gasp now and then.

Marley grins, scooting closer to lay flush with George, his hips pressing against Bastian’s knee as the taller rogue kisses and nips more enthusiastically at George’s ear and the line of his pulse, letting his fingers slide over the relaxed muscles of the older man’s shoulders and down to trail teasingly in Bastian’s wake.  
“Mm... true enough. I can’t be as sneaky as you,” Marley shoots a grin at Bastian, brushing the warlock’s leg with his knee.

Bastian snorts softly, because he’s probably the least sneaky person in the room, rogues, hello? He shifts his leg against Marley’s knee, breathing a little deeper and glancing at Marley with a smile that is both wicked and very fond. His hands work lower, kneading heavily at the base of George’s spine, getting very close to massaging things that are not George’s back as he leans into the attentions, working out tight muscles with the heels of his hands and tips of his fingers.

George seems to be very, very ok with Bastian’s closeness to non-back related anatomy, arching up into the attentions slightly as both the warlock and the other rogue make him choke back gruff groans and soft moans. His fingers grip the bed sheets tightly as his breathing picks up, his hips making a short aborted grind against the bed.

Marley leans in to nuzzle George’s hair, smelling his scent gently as his fingers continue to tease where Bastian had worked. He smells the abrupt spike in the older man’s scent, grinning widely as he pulls back just enough to kiss George’s cheek, moving down to nibble gently at his stubbled jaw. His fingers slide past Bastian’s, making no pretense before grabbing a handful of the blonde’s ass in the snug-fitting leather.

Bastian glances at Marley’s hand as it slips down to grab George, eyes flicking back up to Marley’s face, quirking a brow at him with a wicked smile and shifting where he kneels as if to ask whether or not Marley would like to be here instead.

George squeaks in surprise as he’s grabbed unceremoniously by a grinning rogue, snapping an eye open to ineffectually glare at Marley with a huff. “Was enjoyin’ tha’, thanks,” The older man snaps, voice rough and low.

Marley chuckles, shaking his head at Bastian in answer as he gives George’s butt a rough squeeze before releasing the man, trailing his fingers further south to Bastian’s thigh. He gives his lover a gentle squeeze on the thigh, rubbing his thumb rather close to the inside of the warlock’s groin teasingly.  
“You know, you should be the one naked, Georgie, not us. These just aren’t fair,” the dark-haired rogue uses his other hand to slip a finger past the belt of the blonde’s pants, tugging playfully.

Bastian’s hands hitch in their movement on George’s back, the warlock biting his lip soundlessly. Half-lidded eyes cut down to Marley, shifting to slide and press his thigh against Marley’s hand. He releases a slow, blissful sigh and grins, voice rough with lust when he speaks.

“Mm, very unfair. Absolutely in the way of my massaging,” he agrees playfully, digging thumbs against George’s spine, moving them down until they hit the waist of his pants. He leans in, making a sound in his throat at the way movement affects Marley’s grip on his thigh, and kisses George’s back. 

“May we?” he murmurs gently.

George makes a low sound, eyes slipping closed again as he feels them both teasing at his pants, said clothing much, much too tight by now. The older rogue nods his assent, lifting his hips slightly to help.

Marley makes a happy sound as he gives George a soft kiss before sitting up to reach under the other rogue and unbuckle belts, grinning as he ‘accidentally’ brushes things and drives a few breathless moans out of George for his troubles. He meets Bastian’s eyes and leans up to kiss the warlock heatedly, before pulling away and cocking his brow in question to help him remove George’s pants.

Bastian shifts to put as much heat into the kiss as Marley had, making a lusty sound deep in his throat and grinning at Marley in an incredibly distracted fashion. His roughened, scarred hands slip from George’s back to his hips, inside his pants. He hooks his thumbs over the waistband and slides his hands down gently, giving Marley a quick, impulsive kiss as he helps with making George all the naked.

George happened to see the two sharing quite the moment from the corner of his eye, groaning against his arm at the sight before letting out a surprised half-groan half-squeak as the two strip him of his last shield of clothing. Marley scoots down the bed, tugging until George’s pants join his on the floor, and grins as he eyes the blonde up and down.  
“Oh Georgie... you are far, far sexier than I gave you credit for...” Marley murmurs heatedly, sliding back up the bed to get a good long look at the man half-pinned under Bastian. George catches the look and blushes, burying his face in the crook of his elbow.

“Mmm,” Bastian hums in agreement, trailing his hands back up George’s thighs and to his hips, eyes running along the lines of his body in a slow, appreciative study. Half-lidded eyes slip to Marley, keeping an eye on where he’s moving so he can move around him. With scarred hands he picks up where he left off, kneading and massaging in a slow, almost teasing fashion. Whether he’s actually trying to loosen muscles up or is just enjoying his hands on George’s ass is anyone’s guess.

George blushes harder, grumbling into his elbow some interesting curses directed at Marley, who merely grins back. The older man’s breath stops short as Bastian’s warm hands descend on his backside, letting out a choked moan. His fingers flex in the sheets, shaking as his hips make another aborted grind against the bed.

Marley slides closer again, now that their prize was naked and he wanted to touch. His fingers graze various spots gently, teasing as the dark-haired rogue’s nostrils flare with each spike in George’s scent.  
“I think we’ve gone from massage territory to playtime...” Marley murmurs heatedly, leveling a look at Bastian with a wide grin, “I’ve gotten a kiss, I think it’s Bastian’s turn,” Marley winks conspiratorially at the warlock, gesturing to roll George over.

Bastian’s smile curls wickedly, kneeling up to give George room to shift under him. His hands slide from to George’s ass to hip and waist, caressing, exploring by touch. He tugs at George, coaxing the man to roll onto his back.

“If George could be convinced,” he replies, voice low and husky, “I am desperately curious.”

George is still hiding his face as he’s caressed and teased verbally by his awful, mean former partner, shuddering as Bastian gently encourages the older man to move. He looses a soft moan before he grunts, shifting to roll onto his back obligingly, looking unsure what to do from there. He unconsciously reaches down to cover himself from Bastian and Marley’s scrutinizing gazes. Silly George.

Marley snorts softly, nuzzling George’s hair again as he gently takes hold of the older man’s arm, tugging it away from hiding things. He tsks gently, nipping the other rogue’s ear sharply as punishment. “Georgie, you’re damn handsome,” Marley assures, murmuring heatedly as he lets his fingers slide down the blonde’s chest to lay on his noticeably cut stomach.

“Mm, you have nothing to be shy about. What a gorgeous body,” Bastian agrees, sounding like he’s having a little difficulty catching his breath. One hand slides slowly up to George’s stomach to tangle with Marley’s as he sweeps eyes up George’s body, leaning closer.

“It is - a damned shame you’ve kept it to yourself for so long,” he murmurs roughly, nuzzling the opposite side of George’s neck, catching Marley’s eye warmly as he does. Lifting his head, he raises his brows at George over half-lidded eyes as if asking permission before tilting his head in to kiss him, slow and sure.

George lets out a soft sound as he’s nuzzled from both sides, not sure where to put his hands. He swallows thickly as the pale warlock looms over him, raising an arm to wrap loosely around Bastian’s shoulders as the scarred man kisses him. The older man makes small needy sounds as he’s soundly kissed stupid.

Marley grins as Bastian captures George’s lips, groaning softly as he watches the warlock and the other rogue enjoy themselves with gusto. He growls softly, eyes flashing gold before he nuzzles into George’s throat, nipping gently and kissing the gentle bites as the dark-haired rogue works his way down to the blonde’s collarbone. He kisses George’s long, jagged scar sweetly as he curls his fingers against Bastian’s on the other rogue’s stomach. Marley pulls away for a moment, grinning as he watches Bastian kiss his former partner stupid.  
“That is unbelievably hot to watch...” He murmurs heatedly.

Bastian’s eyelids flutter gently at the comment but he doesn’t answer beyond squeezing Marley’s hand tighter, because he is very, very distracted. By kissing George stupid. He kneels over George and leans into the kiss, noting every sound and movement he manages to garner. 

George is indeed enjoying the kiss, wrapping his arms around Bastian tighter as he melts into the warlock’s skilled hands and mouth. He arches towards the scarred man, his hips grinding gently into the paler man’s thigh with soft moans. Marley’s little bites and kisses drive louder moans from the older man as he presses closer to Bastian, eyes rolling back slightly.

Marley’s grin softens as he watches, nuzzling against Bastian’s throat with a sharp nip before moving back down to nuzzle George. The dark-haired rogue nibbles the older man’s ear playfully as his hands move, his fingers trailing down Bastian’s spine teasingly.

Bastian shudders and arches gently, George pressed up against him and Marley nuzzling and biting and touching. Pulled closer by George’s arms and his pushing and grinding until he’s less kneeling over him and more laying flush against him, he rolls his body experimentally against George’s. The motion is fluid, the harsh way his breath pushes out of him against George’s lips less so. After the breath comes Bastian’s tongue, licking gently along George’s lips, seeking permission.

George lets out a blissful groan as Bastian rolls himself down against the older rogue, pressing closer to the kiss hungrily as his inhibitions seem to finally evaporate with his growing need. Marley probably wasn’t helping with the constant nuzzling and nipping. George chokes out a moan as the warlock’s tongue darts for his, happily letting Bastian in to play. His fingers dig deliciously into the scarred man’s shoulders, his hips rolling up slowly in response as they kiss heatedly.

Marley looks up at Bastian’s harsh breathing, grinning as the warlock deepens the kiss with the blonde. The dark-haired rogue’s mouth goes a bit dry as he makes a pleased noise in his throat at the sight, licking his lips absently. His fingers trail their way to Bastian’s backside, dipping lower teasingly before giving Bastian a playful slap on the ass as George happened to grind upwards.  
“By the Light, you two are sexy,” Marley cheerfully compliments, rubbing the spot he slapped soothingly with a wide grin. His grin widens as George blushes at the compliment.

Bastian is happily indulging George, but Marley has clearly distracted him, arching and tilting to Marley’s hands when he toys, eyes flaring open and fluttering at the slap. He swallows hard, breathing rough as he pulls himself together. Trailing a hand up from George’s hip to slide against his cheek, tangle in blonde hair, Bastian notes George’s blush and draws away just far enough to speak, voice thick and full of lust.

“Mmm, if you’ve - the presence of mind, to blush - at that, I am not doing my job,” he declares with a wicked, wicked smile.

George flushes even deeper at Bastian’s comment, ducking his head slightly against the warlock’s shoulder in embarrassment even as his hips keep gently moving against the scarred man absently. The older man tries to look over Bastian to what Marley did to warrant such a response from the paler male.

Marley grins cheekily at George, waggling his brows as he hops up and lays himself boldly across Bastian’s back, hips snugged against the warlock’s bum and his knees splayed outside the other rogue’s legs. “And if you’re still talking, I haven’t done -my- job, my dear...”  
The dark-haired rogue murmurs heatedly against Bastian’s ear, making eye-contact with George and winking. He gives a nice, slow teasing grind against the warlock’s ass, his fingers grasping Bastian’s hips.

Bastian has a moment to smile at George as if he finds that blush unspeakably adorable before Marley is moving, pressing up behind him. The smile slackens to something decidedly less composed, a quick, shaky breath escaping Bastian as his hand slips from George’s hair to curl into a fist on the bed beside his ear. 

“G-gods, Marley, you damned tease,” the warlock breathes with feeling, and when his eyes open to half-mast they are very dazed. Tilting his head in to kiss George’s neck, Bastian pushes his hips down and back teasingly, rolling deftly against the two men with a soft, strangled sound against George’s neck.

George’s eyes widen as Marley drives Bastian to distraction, moaning brokenly as the warlock rolls his hips down against the older man. He arches back with a heavy groan, letting one hand grip Bastian’s shoulders tightly. The older man lets his other shift and slide into Bastian’s short red hair, dragging the man back down for another kiss while Marley has his fun. And if George were honest with himself, it was pretty hot.

Marley chuckles as he grinds against Bastian harder, leaning forward to kiss the scars he made on the warlock’s back, tracing the letters with lips and tongue with a soft moan.  
“Mm... Bastian, Bastian...” Marley murmurs against the other man’s flesh, nuzzling as his fingers dance up and down Bastian’s sides with intent to tease. His green eyes flick to George’s with a grin as he pushes Bastian against the other man roughly.

Bastian makes an indistinct noise as Marley teases and kisses, eyes rolling back gently. His breathing catches and stutters as he’s shoved hard against George, a choked sound escaping him before he moans softly into George’s mouth, pushing himself into the kiss. His hands spasm and clench on the blankets and on the blond’s hip, and save for the shudder that runs through him, the way he moves is tailored to drive the men against him to distraction.

George makes some very, very unmanly sounds in response to Bastian’s near professional movements against him, arching against the warlock needily. His fingers tighten reflexively against Bastian’s shoulder and in his hair, kissing the man harder and tentatively thrusting his tongue past the other man’s lips. The noises the older man is making are getting steadily more needy.

Marley arches back, biting Bastian’s neck gently before his hips drive forward, stopping just short of so goddamn teasingly. His hands grip Bastian’s hips hard enough to bruise to keep him in place on top of George, grinning against the warlock’s skin. The dark-haired rogue nips his way across Bastian’s shoulders, kissing George’s tensed hand tenderly before finally, finally thrusting into the scarred man roughly, moaning heatedly against Bastian’s ear.

Bastian coaxes and encourages George with his lips and tongue, making a soft, breathless noise of approval - and then a choked, undignified sound of want slips out of him as Marley makes with the horrible teasing. Still, Bastian is a master of multitasking and can absolutely enjoy kissing George and Marley being a magnificent bastard at the same time. 

At least, he assumes this until Marley thrusts into him. Then he’s proven horribly wrong. Bastian arches back with a moan, jerking away from his kiss with George in the process. His hand slips from George’s hip to the bed to support him, spasming against the covers, and the warlock curls his head against George’s shoulder with a sound of helpless pleasure. 

“George-” he manages, dazed. He kisses the man’s shoulder where his head rests. “S-sit -nng, up for me?” he requests in stuttering, lust-rough murmur.

George’s eyes widen as Marley brazenly thrusts right on top of him, choking on a soft moan as Bastian arches tellingly against him, letting his hand grip Bastian’s hair tighter briefly. His fingers stroke the man’s hair shakily as the warlock curls against the older man’s shoulder. He shudders gently at Bastian’s kiss, his brow cocking curiously.

Marley lets out a breath against Bastian’s neck, nibbling as he begins to gently thrust into the scarred man, chuckling breathlessly as Bastian makes his request.  
“Mm... Georgie... you’ll like it...promise,” The dark-haired rogue grins, meeting George’s eye over Bastian’s shoulder as he makes a sharper thrust. The blonde snorts softly, finally untangling his hands from Bastian gently and sliding out from under the two coupling reluctantly.

Bastian’s eyes roll back as Marley starts to move, back bowing as his mouth goes slack around a low moan. Still, he guides George with a light hand on his thigh, and if that hand twitches a little, that may be perfectly excusable. Bastian nuzzles against the inside of George’s thigh as he settles, making small sounds and soft but decidedly heated groans against his skin.

George is willingly guided until he’s where Bastian wants him, leaning against the headboard with the warlock’s head in his lap, not quite doing anything unsavory...yet. The older man let out a soft sigh as Bastian nuzzled against him, shuddering gently as his eyes slip half-shut watching Marley move with such cockiness.

Marley chuckles softly as he watches Bastian guide George around, grinning slightly evilly as he keeps making it difficult for Bastian to concentrate by thrusting slowly and suddenly sharply just to throw the poor warlock off. The dark-haired rogue lets out soft groans against the scarred man’s neck, still playfully nibbling on Bastian’s scars. His green eyes flick up at George as he licks his lips tellingly.

Bastian would be distracted by Marley if the man were just sitting there, but he’s moving and it’s far more than distracting. He makes a quiet, needy sound against the inside of George’s thigh that cuts short with a gasp at a rough thrust. Panting raggedly, he flicks his eyes up to meet George’s, gaze hazy and filled with lust. George, however, is watching Marley move, which Bastian can’t blame him for, Marley’s pretty gorgeous. He nuzzles between George’s legs with a hitched moan, wrapping his tongue around George and teasing, toying, before swallowing him whole.

George is by far entranced by Marley’s movements, swallowing thickly as the dark-haired rogue holds his gaze with that self-assured grin, feeling his movements in Bastian’s. The warlock in question was intentionally - or unintentionally, considering - teasing the older man with his hot breaths and George had his hands in the man’s auburn hair, gently stroking slowly. When Bastian manages to hold himself coherent long enough, he startles a low moan out of the blonde as he teases with tongue, and a louder noise as he’s swallowed. His fingers tighten in Bastian’s hair shakily.

Marley lets loose a low, needy moan as he watches Bastian divide George’s attention quite nicely. Quite nicely, indeed. His hips stutter against the warlock as he stares, unbelievably turned on by these two. One he had strong feelings for, hell, he LOVED Bastian - which was still a very new feeling. And George... George was someone he admired both physically and emotionally; the man had been through nearly as much as he had. Watching him come undone was... invigorating.  
“Nnm... F-fuck-” Marley gasps out, clutching Bastian’s hips tightly, “I have no words... for what you t-two are doing to me...”

A flicker of a pleased, self satisfied expression crosses Bastian’s face before Marley’s movements remind him that he is much too busy feeling amazing to be smug about anything. All that remains in the lines of his face is bliss, written across his expressive brow and around his busy, busy mouth. He works his lips and tongue deftly, by instinct, his own rhythm on George broken by Marley’s thrusts. He makes sounds of pleasure that hum around George and are muffled by him, wrapping an arm around his thigh and bracing gently to rock his hips against Marley.

George is suddenly extremely grateful for the headboard he’s leaning on as his head thunks back hard enough to hurt later. Slightly disappointed he couldn’t keep watching what he was realizing was a helluva show, but also losing enough thought processes to stop caring as long as Bastian didn’t stop doing that evil, evil thing anytime soon. The blonde’s mouth hung open, slack-jawed as his pleasurable sounds escaped him unheeded and his toes visibly curled in the sheets. His fingers grip Bastian’s hair even tighter, but he still had the presence of mind to not yank ( despite Bastian liking that ) or hold the man down.

Marley was quickly losing his thinly-held control watching Bastian drive George on, not to mention grinding back against him. The dark-haired rogue gasps, biting down on a thicker scar at the warlock’s shoulder as his thrusts pick up, watching the two beneath him come undone with a half-dazed grin of want.

Bastian glances up along George at thud of his head falling back, making an appreciative sound because George losing it is in fact rather gorgeous, and very hot. He curls his head up against George’s hand happily when his grip tightens, working lips and tongue harder with the encouragement. Bastian’s hips snap up to meet Marley’s when he thrusts, forcing a sharp, helpless groan out of the man that devolve into smaller but no less fervent sounds as Marley bites and grips and moves.

George has checked out for a bit, call back in an hour or so when he can feel his legs properly again. His fingers are spasming in Bastian’s hair, and he’s damn close. The warlock is doing a damn fine job of driving the older rogue to bliss if his pants are anything to go by. George lets loose a loud, wavering moan before he subtly tries to warn Bastian, his muscles tightening in anticipation.

Marley’s teeth sink into Bastian’s opposing shoulder as the scarred man bucks back against him, driving the dark-haired rogue to distraction. His noises are muffled against the warlock’s flesh as he wants to hear the others lose themselves, but he’s not entirely sure he’s going to outlast them. His thrusts grow more erratic before he whimpers, letting out a keening sound as George’s moan brings him over the edge.

Bastian’s not really in any state to respond to George’s warning, only swallowing harder around the man in some vague, distant hope he’ll get the hint. He’s making muffled, obscene noises around George as Marley’s movements grow irregular and unsteady, as Marley bites him hard and makes sounds into his skin. And that little whimper from Marley, well, even dazed as Bastian is he know exactly what that sound is and that’s enough for his hand to tighten on on George’s thigh, to send him shuddering into his own release with a choked cry.

George squirms against Bastian’s hold slightly, mostly squirming from the man’s skilled mouth as he feels and hears the warlock and Marley losing it with a gasping moan. His own release hits him hard and fast as he arches, one hand flying from Bastian’s hair to grip the sheets white-knuckled. The older man slumps against the headboard, spent and panting.

Marley tries not to collapse on Bastian as he shudders out his aftershocks of pleasure, releasing the poor warlock’s shoulder with a shaky kiss. Hearing his old partner finally lose himself to the warlock’s tender care forces a soft needy moan out of the dark-haired rogue. His green eyes flick up to see George panting, a sly dazed grin spreading his lips as Marley braces himself up on a shaky arm, his other stroking Bastian’s back as the man beneath him shudders.

Bastian teases George through his release, swallowing automatically and drawing away gently when he slumps back. He lays his cheek on George’s thigh, nuzzling absently, expression blissful. His eyes slide closed happily and he shudders and arches gently as Marley strokes down his back, comfortable as a cat in a patch of sunlight.

George makes soft pleading sounds as Bastian is a teasing, evil...well, Bastian. The older man is a limp, useless noodle as Bastian nuzzles him, slowly forcing his eyes back open to blink dazedly at the man in his lap. His fingers gently start stroking the warlock’s auburn hair, almost an apology for tugging.

Marley chuckles softly as Bastian arches and shudders, laying a gentle kiss on the tip of the ‘N’ on his back, nuzzling the scar playfully. His eyes flick up again, checking with a glance how George was and making a pleased sound as the older man looks fond and sated. The dark-haired rogue slowly flops to the side, curling against Bastian and George with a pleased whine.

Bastian makes a soft, almost inaudible noise of protest as Marley draws away, but he smiles comfortably when he lays down beside them, eyes cracking open to gaze at Marley fondly. He slips an arm around Marley’s waist and draws himself over for a slow, sated kiss. When he relaxes back into George’s lap, he kisses the inside of one thigh and smiles up at George warmly.

“Mmm. Suppose I should move so you can lay down,” he muses in a rough, lazy voice. “Or get up.” He smiles lopsidedly, looking around at discarded clothes everywhere! “You need to go? Or can you stay a while?”

George makes an unmanly squeak as Bastian and Marley nuzzle in his damn lap, holding in a soft moan as they kiss and nearly choking on it when the scarred man kisses his thigh. His cheeks flush faintly despite everything and he huffs out a breath.  
“Don’ need teh move none fer a... a bi’, I thin’...” The older man nods once, shakily getting his panting under control. He does squirm slightly, a wry half-smile on his face.

Marley makes a protesting noise to any and all voices talking about moving in any fashion, whining as George squirms. He shifts his weight and snuggles up closer, pinning George slightly as the dark-haired rogue leeches body heat from the two.  
“Comfy,” He growls softly, one arm wrapping around Bastian and the other around George’s waist. The older rogue rolls his eyes at Marley’s childishness.

Bastian smiles, kissing George’s thigh again, doing a bit of squirming himself as he shifts his weight to make sure he’s not lying across George too heavily. He hooks a leg over Marley’s, running an ankle along his calf as he gets comfortable. He tilts his head against George’s petting hand and snugs comfortably against him, glancing over at Marley with the fondest of smiles.

George snorts softly, arching his back with a grunt as he snags a pillow and shoves it between himself and the headboard. His other hand doesn’t stop its quest in petting Bastian’s hair, and once he had the pillow behind himself, the older man placed his newly freed hand in Marley dark locks, scratching gently with a small, wry smile.  
“Yer such a child, Marley,” George murmurs, nothing but fond as he settles in to get comfy for awhile.

Marley nearly purrs as those painter’s fingers slide into his hair, arching up into George’s hand like Bastian did. His muscles ripple gently before green eyes snap open and he turns a warm grin on George.  
“Never denied it,” The rogue grins away, letting his transformation wash over him with a soft growl. Before the older man can protest, Marley slumps back down on George, curling a massive arm around Bastian and grabbing George’s wrist delicately between two claws and setting the man’s hand back in his mane. The Worgen then settles, nuzzling his snout on George’s stomach.

Bastian nuzzles against Marley and George, slipping an arm along Marley’s comfortably and snaking the other around behind George’s hips. Bastian breathes out, a soft, happy sigh, tilting his head into George’s hand. His eyes drift open slightly, hand on Marley’s arm rising to his face, stroking his snout and cheek.

George lets Marley steal away his hand, making with slow, gentle scratches around the Worgen’s ears and stroking Bastian’s hair as he lets himself drift off with a snort.

Marley licks Bastian’s hand and George’s stomach in the process, nuzzling gently as he gives Bastian a gentle squeeze around his middle. He makes a soft sound as his ear flicks towards George, chuckling as the older man snores softly.

Bastian smiles, pressing his face into Marley’s fur and making a soft, happy noise under his breath. He continues to stroke Marley’s shorter facial fur gently, in small, steady motions.

“I love you,” he murmurs, quiet so as not to wake George, sounding drowsy and quite happy.

Marley snuggles closer to his warlock, pressing his snout to the man’s forehead gently and purring softly.  
“Love you too,” he murmurs with a rumble, letting his eyes slip half closed as the other rogue shifts slightly in his sleep, still absently scratching at the other two males’ hair slowly.

Bastian’s smile deepens affectionately and he presses a gentle kiss into Marley’s fur. Soon, soft and even breathing indicates he is deeply relaxed, perhaps even asleep.

Marley makes a pleased sound as his bedfellows pass out, snuggling and watching them sleep for a long moment before his ears stop twitching and he finally joins them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after brings more fun times. George is too old for this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the mild PTSD. And other things.

Bastian’s eyes open to fur. It’s Marley fur though, so he’s okay with this. He’s also laying in George’s lap, and that’s pretty awesome. Stirring gently so as not to wake them, he shifts his face back from Marley ever so slightly, laying his cheek on the inside of George’s hip and looking at both of the gentlemen he’s in bed with appreciatively.

George looks uncomfortable, propped up as he is against the headboard, but he’s snoring lightly away, mouth slightly open and passed out. His fingers are still curled loosely in Marley’s mane, his other limply laying across Bastian’s back.

Marley growls softly as Bastian pulls away, but he’s still too asleep and comfortable to really react properly to losing his other source of body heat. He curls up on George, nuzzling the older man with a purring sound deep in his throat, his nostrils flaring gently. The rogue’s eyes snap open suddenly and he looks up at George, ears laid back before he seems to visibly calm in mere seconds, looking around to Bastian with a sheepish smile.

Bastian smiles at Marley, warm and fond, stroking his muzzle gently and shifting in George’s lap gently to offer Marley body heat again!

“Morning, love,” he murmurs, barely audible. “You alright?” Yes apparently he did catch Marley’s momentary freak out there, but he asks after it quietly enough to avoid waking George.

Marley has the sense to look sheepish, nuzzling close to Bastian and speaking in low, rumbling tones. “I... recalled several... nightmares, for lack of a better word, of... waking up...” Marley gestures vaguely to George with his claws clicking together gently as if in answer. His ears lay back slightly, the Worgen frowning.

Bastian’s expression softens, smile gentle and almost tender as he leans in to rest his cheek against the worgen’s, hand slipping back to run through his mane and stroke it comfortingly.

“Oh, Marley,” he murmurs, almost no sound at all. “It’s alright. Everyone is fine, mm?” He tilts his head to kiss Marley’s snout gently, hand moving through his mane slowly as Bastian speaks. His movements are slight and gentle, ever careful of waking the man he’s laying on.

Marley nods slightly, leaning into Bastian’s soothing pets and his kisses with a soft whine, a very puppyish sound as he playfully licks the warlock’s cheek. His paw circles and rests on Bastian’s waist again, claws dragging teasingly on scarred flesh as Marley tries not to move too much.  
“I know... my nose told me so, but I still...” The Worgen sighs audibly, “Still worried.”

George snorts in between light snores, his lips smacking softly as the two laying on him shift and speak quietly. He’s still out, always the heavy sleeper. Some rogue.

Bastian nuzzles Marley affectionately, scratching in his mane and smiling as he kisses along his muzzle. “You’re alright,” he murmurs, reassuring. He draws back just enough to glance up at George.

“Nightmares aside... nice place to wake up?” he asks, teasing quietly as he noses back against Marley’s muzzle.

Marley chuckles roughly, nuzzling back with his cold snout on Bastian’s nose and a wide grin on his maw. “Yeah... definitely top of the list. A warm pile of people I’m fond of,” The Worgen grins wider, squeezing Bastian’s middle gently. His other arm curls happily around George, careful of his claws on the older man.

“Mmm,” Bastian agrees in a soft, wordless hum, kissing the end of Marley’s nose. He glances up along George and suddenly his smile curls mischievously. Half-lidded eyes flick back to Marley and he quirks a brow. 

“What do you think, Marley?” he murmurs under his breath, shifting closer to George’s hip, one hand still stroking Marley’s mane. “Would George be upset if I-” he pauses, licks his lips with a grin, “woke him up?”

Marley follows Bastian’s gaze and he chuckles softly, his eyes flicking down to the warlock when his scent spikes. The Worgen slowly untangles himself from the two, careful not to wake George. He shoots Bastian a grin and a nod as he gently manhandles the older man. George is the heaviest sleeper, apparently.  
Marley manages to get the blonde into his own lap, legs splayed over his own, laying the older man’s head on his shoulder gently. He nods to Bastian with an evil grin.

Bastian’s smile deepens wickedly as his eyes sweep up Marley and sleeping George. He licks his lips again in anticipation as he meet Marley’s eyes, and then his concentration is on George as he crawls up the two of them in smooth, seductive motions. 

Sliding a steady, gentle hand along the outside of George’s thigh in a caress, Bastian leans in to kiss his way up the inside of his thigh, pausing as he reaches the inside of his hip. He glances up with a sort of wicked curiosity, curious to see if Marley is enjoying the show, and curious to see if George has woken up yet. Marley was pretty confident of moving the man without waking him, so there is the question of what will rouse him.

Marley chuckles softly, his yellow-flecked eyes tracking Bastian’s movements with a pleased grin as he gently supports George’s head with a massive paw.  
“I’m certain you will succeed,” Marley murmurs, rumbling as he smells the spike of curiosity to the warlock’s scent, “He sleeps quite heavily, sometimes.”

George’s snores have finally stopped, probably all the manhandling Marley did partially woke him, and he’s making soft sighing noises as Bastian teases gently. His fingers flex where they fell limp along Marley’s thighs, curling in the fur slightly.

Bastian smiles at Marley, sharp and hungry, looking like he might forgo poor George between them and just launch himself at Marley. And his eyes stay like that, fixed on Marley’s, as he presses kisses against the crease of George’s hip and thigh, licking along it gently with his deft tongue.

Marley holds Bastian’s look with a sly grin, licking his jaws absently as the man licks the older rogue between them, his paw not supporting the slowly coming-aware blonde smooths over George’s chest. His fingers slide down hair-dusted skin as the warlock teases George awake and happy.

The older rogue twitches and lets out a startled moan as he’s woken up by Bastian and Marley slow and sweet. His splayed legs shift wider to Bastian’s attentions, still not quite awake, but definitely far from complaining.

Bastian’s eyes flick from Marley’s to George’s face at the sound, and his grin widens almost boyishly. He nuzzles against the inside of George’s thigh, brushing against more sensitive areas almost accidentally. One hand slips down to rest on Marley’s thigh, and Bastian makes slow, teasing circles against the skin with his thumb. Then, with a careful, if hazy eye on George, Bastian dips his head and teases with gentle kisses, exploring almost tentatively with his tongue.

Marley’s muscles ripple under Bastian’s fingers as the Worgen fights off a moan with a soft choked bark, burying his muzzle in George’s throat. His paws clutch gently at the blonde’s body, caressing every inch of the older man’s upper half and careful of his claws. The brown-furred Worgen happily watches George wake to Bastian’s careful touch, his attention dutifully shifting from one man to the other.

George squirms in their grip, soft sounds escaping his lips as Bastian is an evil, evil man once again, but he keeps his eyes closed. There is no way the blonde could mistake Marley behind him.  
“Nnngh... F - Fuh...” George mutters under his breath, curling his fingers in Marley’s fur tightly.

Bastian makes a small, questioning sound, pausing his attentions to glance up at George. And then, because he’s an evil bastard, he speaks with his lips on George’s incredibly sensitive skin, voice smooth and gentle. 

“Morning, George. Are you with us?” he asks, stroking the inside of Marley’s thigh with one thumb.

Marley chuckles as Bastian questions the poor man, shivering under the warlock’s playful fingers as his own molest George slowly. His claws brush against the older man’s collarbone carefully, his snout pressing playfully to George’s throat as Bastian plays.  
“Mm... morning, Georgie...” The Worgen purrs against George’s ear, nipping ever so gently.

George gurgles incoherently with a soft whimper in answer to the two waking him ever so pleasantly. His fingers tighten reflexively in Marley’s fur and his leg muscles tighten shakily as he finally cracks open sleep-hazed eyes to see Bastian languidly laying in his lap and Marley’s massive paws wrapped around his chest. He makes a soft sound in his throat, murmuring.  
“Yer two gonna kill me a’ this rate...”

“Mmm,” Bastian hums against George’s skin. “I do hope not.” He flicks his tongue against George before continuing. “While I am certain it would be a wonderful way to go-” he mouths gently along his skin - “There would be a number of people very, very upset about it.” Bastian glances up, expression intent and seductive as he surveys Marley and George. One scarred hand slides back from George’s thigh to grip his ass, the other still stroking the inside of Marley’s thigh.

Marley squirms under Bastian’s capable hand with a whine, nuzzling George playfully as the man grips his fur. He chuckles warmly at Bastian’s teasing words, reaching one paw to ruffle the warlock’s hair fondly as the scarred man teases the poor older man pinned between them.  
“Me, for one,” Marley teases, licking George’s ear, “I would be very sad.”

George shivers at Bastian’s hot breath, his tongue and lips, Marley’s snout and licking; all the teasing from these two males driving him right back up the wall and his admittedly short fuse. “Yeh - haah - I b-be’...” The older rogue manages to gasp out, tugging Marley’s fur as the blonde’s hips jerk forward.

Bastian’s head curls up gently against Marley’s paw when his hair is stroked, but George’s hips jerking forward distracts him, because that is something that clearly needs his attention immediately. He’s still stroking along Marley’s thigh with skilled, calloused fingers as he wraps his tongue around George, swallowing him in tortuously slow increments.

Marley whines softly, nibbling at George’s ear mostly to admittedly distract himself from Bastian’s touch, his own hips rocking gently against the older rogue’s back as he watches Bastian swallow the man teasingly. His paw in the warlock’s hair strokes through the auburn locks gently, cupping Bastian’s head to encourage him to continue his slow torture of his former partner. The dark-furred rogue licks down George’s throat, his broad rough tongue lapping against stubbled skin.

George lets out an unmanly squeak and a whine at Bastian’s attentions, his nails digging into Marley’s fur with a ragged moan as his legs unconsciously spread wider. “Ligh’... Ligh’...” He gasps, arching against Marley’s gentle rocks with a low groan. The older rogue arches his head back against Marley’s shoulder, moaning as the two males molest, lick and tease him.

Bastian’s fingers dig against Marley’s thigh and he makes a soft, hungry sound around George, expression as he glances up at the two men matching the tone perfectly. He moves slowly, almost lazily around George, toying expertly with his tongue and seeming entirely in control of his movements if one ignores the way his hips rock gently against the bed.

Marley’s breathing is entirely out of control, being in Worgen form affects him far more what with being able to smell every nuance of both men’s pleasure filling his nostrils. The sweet tang drives Marley further than Bastian’s hands could hope to at this point. His own paws shift on their targets; one very carefully drawing his claws against George’s tanned flesh, teasing and forcing the man to arch just so. His other strokes Bastian’s hair as the warlock enjoys himself and the dark-furred Worgen rumbles up a low growl.

George is a mess of a man in Marley’s lap, nothing but noises of pleasure attached to a body under Marley and Bastian’s care. He does indeed arch and twist in Marley’s grip, gasping as sharp, cold claws trail his skin without tearing and the scarred, pale Bastian toys and teases him with skill the older man could only imagine. His hips jerk slightly, straining as he grows close to his edge quickly.

Bastian makes a sound of want, eyes slipping half-lidded and while his movements on George are still gentle and languid, he does begin to move a little more quickly. He gains a smooth, steady rhythm to his motions that is faster but not overwhelmingly so, and makes soft, lusty little noises around him like he might be enjoying this a little too much. His hand on Marley’s thigh scrapes downward with blunted nails before shifting back up, scarred hand stroking his thigh in time with his movements on George.

Marley makes a strangled little whining growl in answer to Bastian’s noises of lust and growls louder at the warlock’s harsh touch, his paws tightening their holds spasmodically as his hips rock against George harder, but not enough to make the man uncomfortable. Far from it. The Worgen makes incoherent sentences full of praise and curses in between his wanton nuzzling and nibbling on George’s neck and shoulder, ever careful of his teeth on the older rogue.

George’s only grip on the here and now was Marley’s warmth and solidity at his back, and Bastian’s warmth and presence in his lap. Aside from that, he was a high-strung conduit for their pleasure to tease and torment. The older rogue did not have their stamina, and was ever grateful Marley did not give a damn he was nearly tearing the Worgen’s fur out with need. His noises were growing more desperate, more needy, and definitely louder as he arches against them both hard, nearly to his end.

Bastian moves with George as he arches, swallowing him deeper as he pushes up against the warlock with a groan that is all approval. His hand on George’s ass spasms, kneads, pulls himself closer to George and holds him in place while the hand on Marley’s thigh tightens and strokes with a calloused thumb. His hips definitely buck against the bed, the rhythm slow and gentle but certainly noticeable. 

Marley growls out a moan, breathing deeply of George’s scent with a withering groan and a buck of his hips against the older man’s back. His paw on Bastian’s hair slides further down, almost petting the warlock’s back like a cat, his claws following the shallow groove of the man’s spine gently, if shakily. The Worgen turns a nearly golden eye on Bastian with a rumbling growl, maw wide with a predatory grin as his tongue snakes out to lick his snout.

George lets loose a loud, hitching moan as Bastian moves with him, swallowing him down with little effort and all approval. His body shudders with pleasure as Bastian’s molestations drive him over the edge and beyond his capable brain functions, reduced to moaning and arching against the two as he rides his release. The older man’s hands go slack against Marley’s thighs, panting harshly even as the Worgen continues to grind against his backside.

Bastian’s back arches up under Marley’s touch and he makes an embarrassingly needy sound that’s drowned out by George as hits the edge with a much louder moan. Bastian’s eyes flick up to meet Marley’s as George arches between them, half-lidded and hungry as he coaxes George through his release with one long, agonizingly slow pull. He swallows, licking his lips pointedly and then grinning up at the two in a fashion no less predatory than Marley’s.

Marley’s eyelids flutter as scents spike and arc, rolling his head back as Bastian coaxes George through his release with a growl low and rumbling. His paws tense, wishing they could dig, but Marley fights every urge to tear into George with iron will, watching Bastian move to distract himself. As George comes down, still panting but spent, the Worgen gently rearranges the limp man. Carefully, the dark-furred Worgen manhandles the older rogue till George is laid out on the bed comfortably next to the other two males.  
And while George wheezes life back into his brain, Marley’s golden eyes narrow on Bastian as soon as George is taken care of and out of the way, free to...ahem... watch Marley ‘take care of’ the warlock.

Bastian catches that look, staring back at Marley with naked lust - and perhaps a little bit of affection, hidden away where only Marley will catch it. He makes a ragged little sound in his throat as he pushes himself up from where he lays, but his movements are smooth, seductive, and he crowds into Marley’s space, hands on him and rubbing over his chest, tangling in his mane as Bastian kisses him hard.

Marley grins back, licking his jaws as Bastian’s stares. His paws wrap around the man tightly as the warlock slides up his body, teeth clenched to Bastian’s harsh kiss. He growls deeply in his throat, snout sliding to nuzzle and nip Bastian’s throat and shoulder when they part for breath. One of the Worgen’s paws trails playfully down the scarred man’s spine, claws teasing along the ridge of spine on the way back up.  
“Nnm... mm, Bastian...” Marley rumbles, teeth worrying a raised scar within reach as he bucks his hips up playfully.

George finally manages to calm enough to breathe properly, but his body is still very much limp and spent. Poor bastard. The blonde rolls his head to watch Bastian climb over Marley with half-lidded eyes, his brow cocking slightly as he lets out a huff. Resigned to watching, George enjoys the view with a very slight smirk.

Bastian leans against Marley, pressing his chest against Marley’s, aligning their hips and rocking against him hungrily as he tilts his head to bite at Marley’s jaw, somewhere between gentle and rough. One hand twists and tightens in Marley’s mane with a harsh sound approaching a growl, the other running along his cheek and his shoulders and apparently just enjoying touching him ALL THE PLACES.

The dark-furred Worgen very much enjoys Bastian’s touching, resting his weight against the headboard so he can grind back against the warlock pleasantly. He leans into the bites with a wanton whine, his whine turning sharp as his lover tightens his grip on his mane to nearly painful. Marley answers the near-growl with one of his own, sliding his paw back down the line of the man’s spine to grip his scarred ass, the pad of his thumb rubbing roughly along the bite-scar.

George blinks as the two turn near-feral in their pleasure, somewhat glad they left him out at this point. He shivers at the thought of Fynn ever trusting himself enough to do this to him. The blonde props himself up on one arm, curling onto his side to watch the two.

Bastian makes a soft sound in his throat, pushing against Marley’s hand and sinking his teeth into Marley’s ear, a soft, possessive sound escaping him. The hand not tangled in Marley’s mane skims up to pin his shoulder against the headboard. Or at least go through the motions of pinning, because worgen Marley is bigger, and Bastian is also more or less sitting in his lap. 

Marley still reacts like he’s pinned, growling challengingly even as his growl is interrupted by a low whine when Bastian bites his ear hard enough to break the thin, sensitive skin. The Worgen’s hips roll up hard against the warlock as Marley’s jaws split, tongue lolling out slightly as he’s teased and rough-housed. His paw on Bastian’s backside kneads the scarred flesh while his other holds the pale man against the Worgen’s chest, probably doing a better job of pinning than Bastian’s efforts.

George’s eyes widen as things get... a bit heavier, so to speak, intrigued by how the other two just seem to entirely forget he was even there. He felt like he was a fly on the wall, happening by this admittedly steamy scene, and an unshakable idea popped into the older rogue’s head. Oh, Marley might protest but it might be interesting... practice.  
The blonde slips from the bed, careful not to disturb the two molesting one another, and pads over to his pack on the couch.

Bastian is apparently not wholly absorbed yet, a slight pause when George shifts away as if he’s considering going after the man and dragging him back into the fun. Then there’s a squeeze and a roll of the hips from Marley and he’s terribly distracted. He responds in kind, bucking against Marley and straining slightly against his hold as he arches back, a rough sigh of pleasure escaping him.

Marley grins ferally as Bastian grinds back, bucking his hips up again harder to entice the man. Marley is an awful tease. His paws squeeze on the scarred man’s arse and back, claws digging roughly into pale skin where he previously could not for George’s sake. He nuzzles into Bastian’s throat, teeth worrying the flesh tenderly as he licks his way to the bite scar on Bastian’s shoulder with a growl.

George rifles in his pack quietly, not bothering to dress as he retrieves pencils and a sketchbook, flipping the large book open to a fresh page. He chuckles softly to himself as the blonde settles in a chair facing the bed, propping the sketchbook up on his knees while the two are thoroughly distracted. George sets to sketching as quietly as he can, pencil scratching against the parchment as he tries to capture the scene.

Bastian is indeed thoroughly distracted, head tipped back as he rolls and grinds against Marley, curling forward to bump against Marley’s shoulder, where he bites and sucks along his collarbone. “Nnng - f-fuck, gods Marley,” he half groans, half growls between bites. The hand sort-of-not-really pinning the worgen against the headboard curls and digs into muscle, blunt nails just short of breaking skin. 

Marley answers with a soft, heartfelt growl, nuzzling against the top of the warlock’s head as the man bites and sucks his collarbone, rolling his hips up harsh and rough against his lover. The worgen’s muscles strain and flex under Bastian’s touch, his thighs twitching with excitement as Marley grinds against Bastian, panting.

George has to pause his sketching for a long moment to take a slow deep breath, closing his eyes a moment to stave off moaning out loud. Damn but these two exuded sex, more so than the blonde could ever hope to, and he wanted to capture that... essence. There was no way he was good to jump in; 50 years took a toll on the body, even if he kept in good shape. However, George manages to get his head back on and his pencil picks up its soft scratching once again.

Bastian makes a choked, needy sound, muscles tensing along his body as he bears down and grinds hard against Marley. He tilts his head back to kiss Marley fiercely, hands twisting in his mane and spasming on his shoulder. He moans, short and harsh against Marley’s mouth, breathing ragged. 

Marley isn’t much better off, his needy moans dissolving into growls and whines as Bastian grinds against him, kisses his snout and tugs harshly on his mane. The worgen’s claws dig roughly against the scarred man’s flesh, beading droplets of blood at the tips, but resisting the urge to tear with a great care. His hips snap up as he grinds back, teeth clenched in pleasure as his eyes roll back in his head.

George’s fingers sketch away, absorbed in his art even as the room fills with nothing but the sounds of the other two male’s pleasure. His brown eyes flick from his parchment to the bed, noting movements and penciling them in...

Bastian’s breath catches and pushes out of him in a rush as Marley’s claws break skin, the warlock pressing back against them and generally being horrible when Marley’s trying NOT to make him bleed. The hand on Marley’s shoulder shifts to join the other in his mane and Bastian grinds and rolls against Marley, sinuous. His teeth move to the worgen’s throat, nipping roughly.

“Nnn - need you - ohh, Light, Marley-” the warlock manages, words rough and struggling to remain coherent as they’re groaned to Marley’s throat.

Marley forces a bit of sense into his brain at Bastian’s nipping, ears flicking forward at the rough groan of words as the Worgen answers with a needy growling moan. The dark-furred rogue shifts his weight, paws sliding to Bastian’s hips and ass to assist the warlock in moving, manhandling the paler man to position over him with a moan.

George takes pause, swallowing thickly as his flush is back in full swing, settling his sketchbook down on the arm of the chair with care. His hands are too shaky to sketch any longer, but he’s pleased enough with the image on the parchment to leave it be. His eyes flick back to the bed with a soft whimper, unable to stop staring at the two.

“Mmm,” Bastian offers in a rough, appreciative hum as Marley manhandles him, nuzzling against Marley’s throat and moaning in a positively obscene fashion as he pushes himself down onto Marley. His hands grip painfully tight in Marley’s mane and he shudders hard, jaw going slack as he struggles to catch his breath.

Marley groans in between his pants of breath as his Bastian grips his mane and pushes downward with purpose, his paws fighting to not grab and shove just yet. The warlock’s scent fills his nostrils and the Worgen growls, nuzzling back against Bastian’s hair as the man buries himself in the rogue’s lap. Marley’s legs strain tightly as his hips make a short buck up against Bastian, moaning loudly.  
“Ba -haah! - Bastian... m-mine...”

George almost feels he’s intruding by this point, but he just can’t tear his eyes away from the bed for all the noises the two are making. His cheeks aflame, the blonde slowly uncurls himself from the chair and pads back to the bed, settling on the edge nervously as the two continue oblivious. He slowly, tentatively reaches out and strokes his fingers down Bastian’s bowed back, biting his lip.

Bastian sinks down with a sound in his throat, pausing a moment with a shudder. A hitching groan escapes him as he starts into motion again, George stroking his back. His hands twist in Marley’s mane, arms braced on his shoulders as he moves, smooth and steady in a way that’s entirely incongruent with his ragged breathing and the little sounds that escape him.

Marley would like the man to move faster, thank you very much, but he was suddenly hyper-aware of George right there, and slamming Bastian down and clawing till the warlock made some noise might be ill advised. The Worgen reins in his desires by nuzzling and growling needily into Bastian’s flesh, driving his hips up as much as he can in his position.

George scoots closer, emboldened by Bastian’s arching and groans with a quirked smile, he glances at Marley over the warlock’s scarred shoulder and runs his fingers up and down Bastian’s spine. The blonde leans closer, flushed, but mustering the will to join in as little as he can with small, light kisses to Bastian’s neck.

“Mmmmn-” Bastian manages, a low moan of a sound that’s not at all coherent. He tilts his head back, both exposing his throat and trying to rest against George, sounding for all the world like he’s having trouble focusing on basic things like breathing. His smooth motions are starting to break down, interrupted with jerky little shudders, hands holding tight in Marley’s mane and clinging like it’s holding him up. A sharp, harsh groan pushes out of his throat.

Marley makes a pleased rumbling sound as Bastian starts to lose himself, eyeing the expanse of horribly scarred flesh as he licks his jaws wantonly. His hips snap up to meet the man’s jerks with low growls, watching his face with yellowed eyes as the Worgen leans forward and licks Bastian’s throat with his rough tongue.

George shudders at the sounds coming from the other two, swallowing thickly as he continues dancing his fingers up and down Bastian’s spine and kissing the warlock’s shoulders. His fingers spread across the scars on the man’s back as he arches, tracing the “N” with his thumb as the blonde kisses where Bastian’s throat and shoulder meet.

Bastian bites back a soft, needy little sound, groaning in his throat as he works a little harder, a little less smoothly against Marley. His body arches and tenses and shudders, trying to press against Marley and George all at once, little gasps of pleasure escaping him. His hands spasm, slipping slightly in Marley’s mane.

Marley breathes harshly against the warlock’s skin, thrusting his hips up harder and faster with any leverage he can get, snout nuzzling close with his licks to Bastian’s scarred throat.  
“Mine...” The Worgen growls, claws digging into Bastian’s ass deliciously. His yellow eyes flick to meet George’s, grinning wolfishly as he tries to drive Bastian insane.

George’s blush deepens at Marley’s hungry stare, unable to hold the look for long as the older rogue buries his face in Bastian’s shoulder, stubble scratching the warlock’s skin. His kisses are still soft and gentle, his thumb rubbing tight circles on Bastian’s shoulder blades pleasantly. His other hand makes a tentative journey back down the paler man’s back and skittering around a hip, groping slightly blindly. George’s fingers find their target, wrapping loosely around Bastian and moving in a slow rhythm in time with his own kisses.

Bastian presses into all contact like he’s desperate for it, shivering when George’s hand trails his hip and choking on a soft cry as he grabs Bastian and begins to move. Back bowed and scarred hands painfully tight in Marley’s mane, the warlock’s body is tensed and shuddering and he’s making helpless, breathless sounds of pleasure. He’s clearly very close to the edge.

Marley grins against Bastian’s flesh, nuzzling roughly as tongue and teeth graze the scarred, pale flesh wantonly, meeting George’s hand on the warlock’s shoulder with a gentle nuzzle. His hips lose any rhythm they might have had with Bastian’s sounds of need, snapping up with one goal in mind. The Worgen’s head snaps back, howling out loud and low as his release comes hard, claws pricking Bastian’s flesh.

George glances up at Marley as he’s nuzzled, fingers touching the Worgen’s muzzle tenderly and laying more kisses across Bastian’s shoulders. The rogue’s other hand strokes gently but purposefully, feeling with a shudder when Marley howls the thrust upwards. He lets out a small sound against Bastian’s back, swallowing thickly.

Bastian bites back a high, sharp sound and - well, he doesn’t howl, but the delicious noise he does gasp out is entirely erotic and oddly noisy for the warlock. He jerks his hips forward once, against Marley, against George’s hand, as he finds his release, back bent in a smooth, taut curve. He shudders hard and a low, broken moan escapes him, hands twitching slightly in Marley’s mane.

Marley pants harshly against Bastian’s throat, eyes locked on the man’s face as the warlock finds bliss, grinning tiredly even as he shudders in aftershocks of pleasure. He slumps against the headboard, boneless from their exertions and pleasantly sated. The Worgen gently smooths his paws over Bastian’s slightly bleeding backside, soothing the claw pin pricks with care as the scarred man comes back to himself.  
“Mmm... I got a bit carried away...” Marley murmurs, bringing one paw up to lick it clean of Bastian’s blood lazily.

George jerks slightly when Bastian finds release, jolted from whatever planet he was on to reluctantly release the other man once Marley had slumped back. At the other rogue’s murmured comment, he slid back a bit to look down where, sure enough, the Worgen’s claws had sliced Bastian’s flesh. The blood flow was minimal and sluggish at best, and George swallowed back the slight panic that had started to well up with careful precision. He did get a questioning glance from Marley, though, and offered his former partner a small smile of reassurance as he adjusted his weight to get comfy.

Bastian doesn’t answer immediately, shuddering gently like little aftershocks, breathing ragged. He’s leaning slightly against George, but at Marley’s comment he groans softly and pulls himself up to sit forwards, shaky arms slipping from Marley’s mane to brace on his stomach. He shudders again, grins at Marley in a fashion that is a touch rueful and very hazy, and leans in to kiss him, long and slow. 

Drawing back with a smile and a gentle bump of his nose against Marley’s snout, he twists to George, murmuring a breathless “Sorry about that,” before sliding a scarred hand up to his neck and kissing him quite thoroughly as well.

Marley chuckles softly as Bastian shudders and groans, leaning into the slow kiss as much as he can without moving his body much. His muscles ripple slightly as he rolls a shoulder. The worgen whines as Bastian pulls away, but his ears snap forward at the murmuring and his mouth goes dry as the warlock pulls George in for a kiss too. Marley approves.

George smiled a touch ruefully as he watched Marley and Bastian kiss; something that should have been extremely awkward with all those teeth and a muzzle, but they made it seem like the simplest act. His attention is stolen as Bastian twists to face him, the scarred hand holding him gently in place so the warlock can steal his lips, too. The blonde groans softly against Bastian’s lips, deepening the kiss slowly and nibbling gently on the man’s lower lip.  
George parts for breath after a few beats, hand coming up to stroke down Bastian’s side and over Marley’s arm tenderly as the older rogue smiles.  
“Fuck, yer two’re gonna give me a heart’tack a’ this rate,” He chuckles softly, “Bu’ wha’ a way teh go, eh?”

Bastian makes a soft, encouraging sound as he’s nibbled, nuzzling George’s neck when he draws back. He gives George’s throat a brief kiss and flashes a grin at his comment, twisting himself about to flop back shameless against Marley, one hand searching out the worgen’s paw absently, twining through it. He huffs out a heavy breath, and seems to be getting his breathing under control, now.

“Mmm. What a way to go indeed,” he agrees in a warm, rough voice. “And how are you this morning, George?” he adds with an impish grin.

Marley groans as Bastian twists and shifts around, huffing as the man flops against his chest comfortably. The Worgen wraps his unoccupied paw around the warlock, muzzle resting on Bastian’s shoulder lazily and one ear focused on the conversation. His eyes are almost entirely green again and half-lidded as he focuses them on George. He grins playfully at the accusations.

George is still flushed nearly down his neck to his collarbones and at Bastian’s question, he nervously runs his fingers through his blonde hair. “Was an interestin’ way teh wake up, fer sure,” the older rogue murmurs, smiling wryly, “Cer’ainly one o’ tha’ betteh ways I’ve woken up teh Marley furry.”

Bastian grins softly, eyes flicking from Marley to George and then catching on Marley again. He gives the man an impulsive kiss on the cheek, and spot of color appear on his cheeks, eyes flicking away and glancing around the room. Because that’s totally more embarrassing than lying on a naked worgen and chatting George up about how awesome a wake up sex is.

“Mmm, I would imagine,” he agrees in a murmur, smirking slightly and apparently entirely in control of himself again. He stretches languorously, tilting his head at George. “Have you worked up an appetite yet, George?”

Marley catches the kiss and grins, answering with a light, but purposeful squeeze around the warlock’s middle. His own gaze wanders George up and down, grinning absently as the rogue’s usual thought process takes over despite being sated. Both of his ears flick towards Bastian at his question, rumbling up a chuckle.  
“Do we have to move? I have all I need to eat right here,” He grins playfully, nuzzling Bastian and taking a light, playful nip on the man’s ear.

George’s smile widens as Bastian flushes, but he doesn’t point it out verbally. He shifts his weight again, rolling his neck once before the warlock speaks. The blonde pauses, chuckling as his stomach answer for him.

“ ‘parently,” George smirks.

Bastian, despite the fact that he is still catching his bloody breath, bites his lip tellingly at Marley’s comment, and just stops himself from making a sound at the nip. He gathers his wits enough to roll his eyes and smile warmly at George.

“You’ll have to give me a moment to escape your eternally handsy partner,” he replies, so dry you would never guess Bastian flopped in Marley’s lap, and has his hands on Marley as much as Marley has hands on him. He twists around again, because the fucker is like an eel or something with his twisting about, swinging himself around so he’s kneeling over one of Marley’s thighs. He presses a knee up between Marley’s legs teasingly but not precisely gentle, one hand on Marley’s chest and the other gripping his chin firmly. 

“You stay here,” he commands, demanding and playful and generally being a terrible jerk. It’s not pitched for George to hear but he’s closeby and would likely hear it anyways! Bastian would be embarrassed, but he’s busy slipping off the bed stark naked to go get food.

Marley chuckles warmly as he nearly made Bastian whimper, pleased with himself even after Bastian comments. However, as the warlock twists and grabs hold of his jaw, the Worgen’s ears droop slightly and he inhales harshly, eyes wide as he is commanded to stay right there. He whimpers tellingly, not bothering to hide the fact in the least as his Worgen side makes his whine ever-so pathetic sounding.

George snickers at Bastian’s dry comment, scooting back slightly to settle on the bed cross-legged and nearly as unashamed as the other two about being naked. He’s still faintly blushing, though.  
The older rogue’s eyes widen as Bastian twists around, straddling the Worgen and commanding him quietly; Marley’s whines telling George he was not in the least unhappy about it. He scrambles up after Bastian, fishing his underwear from the pile of clothes on the floor and slipping them on for a layer or decency. Even if that layer is just for George.  
“Yeh don’ hafteh make nothin’ fer me,” George murmurs after the paler man as Bastian pads into his kitchen.

Bastian glances over his shoulder from where he prepares food, eyes flicking down along George’s form for a heartbeat before he’s smiling with arched brows, gesturing at him with the knife.

“Nonsense! You can’t tell me you haven’t worked up an appetite after all this, mm?” He glances down at the plate of fruit. “Or did you have something more substantial in mind?” he adds, voice mild. That smile, though, is politeness as a thin veneer over the wickedness beneath.

Marley huffs as he’s left alone in the bed, but he takes the moment to collect himself because jumping anyone right now would be... bad. The last thing the Worgen wanted to do was hurt George. He let Ver recede with a soft growl and made himself all the comfy on the bed, human ears still catching bits and pieces of the conversation in the kitchen. Marley picks at his nails as he lays smack-dab in the middle of the bed, grinning to himself.

George blushed again under Bastian’s scrutiny, but his nervousness wasn’t as forthcoming as before. He did just sleep with the two. He peers at the fruit Bastian is cutting up and snorts, amusement clear in his eyes.  
“Frui’ an’ booze sounds perfec’, yeh?” The older man chuckles softly, leaning against the doorframe and unintentionally looking quite... ravishing. “Gittin’ sen’ back with Fynn soon, migh’ as well enjoy decen’ food.”

“Fresh food, anyways,” Bastian agrees cheerfully, picking up the platter. “Light knows how much hard bread and dried meat you eat on the road, mm?” He turns to George and pauses to rather blatantly enjoy the view, offering an appreciative hum and flashing a wicked, wicked smile. 

“Can this be the dress code every time you visit, George?” he teases, quirking an eyebrow suggestively as he pads across the kitchen. “Not that I’d be opposed to you wearing less, of course, but you’re very nice to look at,” he adds in reasonable tones. And Bastian would be crowding George’s space, now, except there’s a platter of fruit between them. George saved from gay molestations by fruit, I’m pretty sure there’s a joke there somewhere.

George chuckles and nods in agreement about the food, still blushing as the warlock blatantly checks him out. He reaches up to run his fingers through his hair nervously, smiling at Bastian indulgently. His cheeks flare up bright red at the man’s flippant comment, crossing his legs slightly uncomfortably with a pained smile.  
“Yer jus’ goin’ on, Roske,” The blonde mutters, fingers carding through his hair again as Bastian crowds him, “Yeh an’ Marley both. I ain’ handsome, an’ I ain’ pretty.” The rogue flicks a hand out and steals a piece of fruit.

Bastian tsks softly, giving George a mildly reproving smile that has nothing to do with the stolen fruit.

“Mm. I suppose not pretty, no,” he allows, brown eyes on George intently. “Marley is pretty, much as the man denies it. Fynn is pretty. You have - something else,” he muses aloud, tilting his head and considering. And because apparently he’s going to explain this, in detail, he keeps talking. “You’re all hard lines and rough edges, physically. Just stocky enough to avoid being called lithe, I think, but there’s the way you move. An efficient, self-disciplined grace. Powerful, I would call you, looking at your body and the way you move.” A smile kicks up the corner of his mouth. “Also a fool, if you don’t think I enjoy looking at you.” He taps George on the nose and grins, stepping around him with the tray of fruit to head back to his room.

George snorts as the paler man agrees, lips quirking up in agreement of Fynn. His eyes widen considerably as Bastian continues into the older rogue’s qualities, ducking his head and using his crossed arms to cover his chest as much as he can. Oh George. You’re adorable.  
The blonde coughs as Bastian passes him, flushed and embarrassed and just a little flattered at the man’s compliments. He debates silently for a moment about going after his clothes, but sighs ruefully and follows Bastian back into the other room.  
“Feh,” He grumbles softly, looking down at himself as if he’d never really bothered before.

Marley makes a pleased sound to accompany his grin as the two return, arms crossed under his head and legs crossed at the ankles with no fucks given in regards to his own nudity.  
“I’m not pretty, I’m alluring,” The dark-haired rogue waggles his brows with a chuckle, eyeing the platter of fruit.  
“Damn. I need to either go to market, or go hunting for you, Bastian. Fruit all the time will kill me,” Marley pouts.

Bastian smirks ever so slightly, setting the platter down in the center of the spread flopping down shamelessly on the bed. “Mm, you have only yourself to blame for all the fruit, as I recall,” He teases. “Something ridiculous about my health, I believe,” he continues in a dry, airy voice, raising his brows and popping a berry in his mouth just so, like the bastard he is. He waves George over, smiling in his direction.

George snorts at the exchange, chuckling softly as he digs around the pile of his stripped clothes, smoothing out his leathers as well as he can and tossing them on the couch. Might as well try. The blonde glances towards the bed as Bastian beckons him, chuckling softly as he meanders towards the bed.

Marley grins as Bastian flops on the bed, scooting closer to cuddle as he steals a bit of apple to nibble. The rogue snorts indulgently, “Mm, yeah, ridiculous. Because keeping you healthy is a silly concept,” Marley smirks, but his look screams concern. He lays back, lounging comfortably with his apple slice in his mouth and his fingers nabbing another bit of melon. His eyes flick to George, grinning gently as the other rogue joins them.

Bastian pats the bed, motioning for George to make himself comfortable. He snugs next to Marley for a moment before hopping up, parading his naked butt over to the alcohol and talking as he pours himself a glass.

“Can I get either of you anything? I did promise fruit and booze, George.” He grins ever so slightly.

George pushes himself on the bed with the other two, sitting cross legged with one hand subtly covering himself despite his undergarments. The blonde reaches for a bit of fruit, selecting a slice of orange to nibble as Bastian saunters over to his booze shelf.  
“Yeh did, an’ I’ll take wha’e’er yer afteh,” the older rogue supplies around his orange slice, trying very hard not to eye naked Marley or naked Bastian.

Marley enjoys the snugs, however brief, and pouts slightly as the warlock pulls away. He does, however, perk up as Bastian saunters and goes for booze.  
“Same, actually. I can smell it from here,” Marley purrs out, popping a berry in his mouth as he grins. He flicks his eyes to George and nudges the blonde’s knee with his foot, offering the older man an eyebrow waggle.

Bastian glances over his shoulder a moment, eyes intent on Marley as he quirks a brow suggestively. He’s still pouring drinks. What. Then he cracks a silly smile, and in a moment he’s moving back to the bed with drinks in hand. He plants a kiss casually on both George’s cheek and Marley’s when he hands out drinks, and then wriggles back up on the bed.

George manages to accept the drink and the kiss without a blush rising to his cheeks, smirking slightly as Marley gets the same treatment. He gives the booze in his hand a curious sniff; not that he would ever say no to any form of alcohol, but he did know the difference between a sippin’ drink and a chuggin’ drink. He gives a slight smile as the spices hit his nose, lifting the glass to sip gently on the light rum.

Marley accepts drink and kiss with a grin, lifting the glass out of harm’s way as Bastian rejoins him on the bed, wrapping his free hand around the man and pecking the warlock on the nose playfully. His eyes flick to George to ensure the other rogue is enjoying his drink before taking a sip himself.  
“This new, or have you been hiding it?” The dark-haired rogue inquires, twirling and lifting the glass to look at the liquid inside with a squinted eye.

“New,” Bastian replies with a slight, amused smile, eyes dancing. He leans in to get a piece of fruit, glancing between the two and quirking a grin for a moment. “It’s a type of spiced rum from southern Kalimdor, actually. It’s interesting,” he allows in approval, swirling the glass. “What do you think?”

“I like it,” George replies, simply, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He smiles warmly at the other two men, reaching out to steal a bit of apple to go with his spiced drink. The blonde takes a bite of apple and a sip of rum, a pleased smile quirking his lips at the combination.

Marley chuckles softly at George’s quick reply, snuggling close to the warlock as he takes another experimental sip of the rum, hmming.  
“Its... interesting, I’ll give you that...” Marley mutters, taking another sip and yoinking a bit of melon to nibble, “I’ll let you know at the end of my glass, hm?”  
The dark-haired rogue grins and chuckles in earnest, nuzzling Bastian and reaching out a foot to prod George gently.

Bastian gives up with an almost-shrug and relaxes into Marley’s cuddles. He leans against him, slight smile softening to something impossibly fond. He looks a little sheepish as he glances at George, then hides behind his glass a moment to collect himself as he takes a long draw of the rum.

“Mm. You mentioned being sent out again, George. Any indications of where you’re stationed, or is that sort of thing more of a need to know basis?” he asks curiously, tilting his head and gesturing at George with his glass.

“Gen’rally, s’been need teh know, an’ Fynn’s on tha’ need teh know. I jus’ follow him with my shit.” George shrugs, popping the rest of his fruit in his mouth and chewing. He smiles slightly at Marley’s cuddling, nudging back with a rueful smile.  
“An’ I ain’t go’ alo’ o’ shit.”

Marley sips on his rum and he holds Bastian gently with one arm, loosely wrapping the man up and snuggling. He pecks Bastian on the cheek after he asks George silly boring things, snapping a grin in the older rogue’s direction as he’s nudged.  
“But the shit you have is good! It’s my shit. Just don’t tell Fynn that. He might throw it all away,” Marley chuckles warmly.

Bastian chuckles, rueful, glancing between Marley and George. He reaches over to brush against George, draw his attention, expression questioning.

“Is there anything I - or we, I suppose, could do?” His eyes flick to Marley a moment, and he adds for clarity: “It can’t be easy to have your lover and your friend at odds. Is there something to be done to ease that animosity?”

George looks honestly thoughtful, swirling the amber liquid in his glass as he thinks about Bastian’s question. He nibbles on his lip and his free hand goes to ruffle his own hair; all shared nervous traits.  
“ ‘e mentioned a birthday o’ his comin’ up... an’ he always. Always likes gifts. ‘Specially them instrumen’s he’s so fond o’.” George nods once, sipping his rum once again. He sighs heavily, scratching at his stubble absently as he smiles at Bastian.  
“It’s hard, havin’ Fynny hatin’ Marley still...” George murmurs, giving Marley a sad look, frowning slightly.

Marley scoffs as Bastian starts in with his question, nose upturned, about to retort when George pipes up. The dark-haired rogue pauses, then grins triumphantly, ignoring George’s frown pointedly.  
“Instruments you say? So... if I could viably find a violin... or a mandolin! Or one of those small pianos... or bongos! Or...” He trails off, stroking his goatee thoughtfully.

“Bongos,” Bastian echoes, voice rich and amused as he watches Marley like he’s trying not to laugh. He catches Marley’s hand, tugs it down and smiles at him with raised brows before looking back to George.

“Bongos notwithstanding, is there anything he’s been trying to get his hands on? I have a harp somewhere but it’s a little big for carting around, I assume he’d want something portable,” Bastian muses aloud, glancing at George in question. He strokes a scarred thumb absently across the back of Marley’s stolen hand.

George smiles warmly and chuckles as Marley goes off, waiting patiently as Bastian stops the other rogue mid-rant. He leans back and finishes his rum with a gulp, smacking his lips together thoughtfully.  
“He likes tha’uns he can carry ‘round, like ‘is mandolin an’ harp-thin’...lyre? Wha’e’er’s called,” George waves a hand dismissively, sighing, “I couldn’ tell yeh wha’ he’s lookin’ fer specifically. Bu’ I know he likes ‘em Gilnean an’ hand-made. Neh o’ tha’ Gnomish shit.”

Marley’s hand is stolen, and the man pouts as his theorizing is halted in favor of logical questions, but he perks as Bastian strokes his hand however innocently. George’s answer draws the dark-haired rogue’s attention, his expression turning thoughtful and less playful. He nervously tucks his lip between his teeth to worry it gently.  
“Do you really think giving Fynnegan a gift will...help? He might just shoot me when I try to give it to him,” Marley mutters, humor gone from his voice.

“Out of respect for George at the very least, I doubt he’d do more than threaten,” Bastian replies, gently soothing. He squeezes Marley’s hand subtly and quirks a smile at him. “So. Violin?”

George smiles gently, slightly tightly at Marley’s mutterings, reaching out and patting the other rogue’s calf gently. The blonde nods at Bastian’s comment, murmuring.  
“Already asked’em no’ teh shoot yeh fer my sake.”

“Violin... where the fuck am *I* going to get a nice violin?” Marley snorts, moving to lean on the warlock’s shoulder, nudging George back with his knee. “I have contacts, people in places... but I doubt any of them would like getting a letter from me asking about Gilnean violins.”

Bastian chuckles, slipping an arm around Marley and leaning back against him. His other hand coming around to rest against George’s on Marley’s thigh, completely unabashed. He looks comfortable.

“When have I -ever- let you down in procuring whatever you need, Marley?” he replies with the cheekiest of grins.

Marley snorts softly, chuckling as he nuzzles into Bastian’s throat and kisses his cheek sweetly. He pulls back just enough to grin at the warlock, his hand squeezing Bastian’s lovingly.  
“While I will never doubt you, and it is true,” His grin turns wicked and he licks his lips absently, “Your body won’t exactly help in procuring a violin. And I like your heart inside your body.”

George rolls his eyes and grumbles as Marley gets cute with his answer, sighing heavily as his blush returns sparingly. He nudges Marley roughly with his hand.  
“Down, Marley. I gotta walk home, damnit, an’ I can’ if’n’m too tired from yer damn infinite stamina,” The older man grumbles, frowning and narrowing his eyes at the other rogue, but the tone is almost playful.

Marley’s answer very clearly gives Bastian pause, breathing catching slightly and something subtle lighting in his expression. To cover this, apparently, he griiins at George, leaning towards him as he speaks.

“You don’t have to walk, George. We are perfectly capable of carrying you. Though,” he muses aloud, “It would be interesting to try and explain to Fynn _why_ we’re carrying you home.”

-Fin-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you have enjoyed this... thing. 
> 
> **Edit: Minor Tag revision and some grammatical corrections.


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